Time is Irrelevant
by Puddings-and-Tea
Summary: When a young Loki meets a human for the first time, he is inexplicably drawn to her soul. As he grows older, his confidence in finding her again dwindles to nothing. What will it take to convince himself that he can find her again? (HIATUS 24.1.14 - REWRITING CHAPTERS. CHAPTER 15 REWRITTEN 7.3.14.)
1. Enter Siv

Somewhere deep in Scandinavia, a brisk wind blew across an icy landscape. The sun was fading under a crisp white horizon. On Earth, it was the year 977. June. Twelve years ago, before Thor and Loki were born, their father Odin defeated the Frost Giants and saved Midgard from another disastrous ice age. The realm still felt the cold of the Casket of Ancient Winters, a curious and deadly weapon confiscated from the Jotuns.

"Do not stray too far!" Frigga called to her boys from her tent.

"Yes, Mother!" the boys called to her, racing around the camp site and through the forest. The royal family was alone, save for a sparse spattering of assorted Midgardian animals. The princes sparred for a bit; Loki was unable to keep up with Thor's strength and soon lost interest.

Thor climbed a nearby tree and gazed out over the area. "Do you think Father will be back tonight?" he asked, looking down at his grounded brother.

"It is doubtful," Loki responded. "You know how Father likes to blaze a trail wherever he goes." Thor laughed and jumped from the tree. He landed in a soft pile of snow with a heavy "oof!"

"Hey!" The elder prince said, popping up and rubbing his hands. Loki did not like his tone. It meant Thor was about to suggest a game that his brother would likely lose. "We should play seek-and-find in the dark!" There it was, the game. However, the raven haired prince felt he might have a chance at winning this one. As long as it did not involve tackling or hunting or sparring or any other physical activity. He was uncannily good at seek-and-find. It also helped to be learned in magic and thus able to transform yourself into anything imaginable.

"Okay," Loki said. "What are the rules? Limits?"

Thor shook his head. "Just a classic game of seek-and-find. No funny business. Which means you are not allowed to use your doppelgängers." Loki shrugged. He rarely used them, anyway. He was not great at magic yet, and it tired him to use them without reason. Turning himself into an object was easier than creating another body out of smoke. "And another thing," Thor continued, grinning widely. Loki rolled his eyes. "Tag!" Thor shouted, and darted off into the underbrush.

Loki counted to ten and followed suit.

The sun sank rapidly, and it was difficult to trace Thor. There were footprints, of course, but they led in all different directions. Thor must have been planning this game for the last hour, stomping paths in the snow. He was learning how to outwit Loki. He never would, the raven haired prince mused, smiling. He pulled his eyes from the ground and searched the trees. The snow reflected moonlight into the bare branches.

Midgardian forests were not unlike Asgardian ones. Loki hoped to at least see something different. Many of the animals here were the same. Wolves, quail, squirrels, deer. . . But the only thing the young prince was interested in finding was a human. He knew stories of ancient ones, the cave dwellers that struck fire from rocks and painted in forgotten caverns. Perhaps they'd grown.

Half an hour of trekking through the snow around the campsite yielded no results. The moon cast a ghostly white reflection on the blanketed earth. It was difficult to see very far ahead. Lots of trees looked like shadows of Thor-brothers. Loki had hoped Thor would have listened to Frigga. It seemed he was sorely mistaken. Loki sighed. He truly did not want to venture too far out. Straying from camp would earn a hefty disciplining from the All-Father. No one wanted that. Although, it always seemed like Thor was never punished quite so severely. Loki wondered why that was.

Loki also wondered why his father was so known for destroying villages as he trampled through the Midgardian world. Did he not care for them? If he did not favor humans, why had he saved them from the Frost Giants twelve years ago? And, was it twelve years for humans as well? How did the aging cycle vary between the two species? Loki knew that he aged the same as a human up until the point where he started to grow into an adult. Puberty slowed down his growing cycle. By the time he would be a polished adult, he would have lived for almost two thousand years longer than any mortal. Perhaps it had been twelve years, then, since the war. It must be so frightening to live as a human, to know you only have a handful of years to live and then you fade away into the earth. Next year, his body would begin to slow down. He would stay this size for a few hundred years, growing steadily. How would the humans advance during that time?

But his thoughts were cut short. A twig snapped to his left. Loki froze. Was it his brother? An animal? Whatever it was, they could sense each other's tensing. The pressure became unbearable. Slowly, Loki turned to face the tree to his left. A bulky shadow hid from his sight. He could feel it staring at him. Its breathing was short and ragged, as if it had been running for a great deal of time.

"Thor?" Loki called out tentatively.

Suddenly, the strange creature was upon him. It leapt from the shadows and tackled him into the snow. Loki wanted to scream, but he feared his brother's taunts. Loki struggled and wrestled the furry creature to the ground. Its pelt seemed never-ending, large and shapeless like a bear. But it had spindly arms and legs, much like his own. He won out, sitting on the creature and pinning its arms above its head. This was not his brother.

Underneath him, a young girl writhed, whimpering softly. They both made no noise as they fought. It was a strange idea to the prince that two children fought in the snow without so much as a grunt. Loki did his best not to laugh.

"Who are you?" he murmured quietly, eyes darting across her figure. She was not Asgardian, clearly. She was not polished like an Asgardian. But her hair was dark brown, eyes a brilliant blue. They were common Aesir features. She was rather pretty. And Loki was sitting on her stomach without much care. The girl struggled under him.

"Help me!" she whispered frightfully.

"Who are you?" Loki asked again, voice rising. He was losing his playful mood. And this girl kept staring over his shoulder. What was back there?

A deep, throaty growl echoed behind them. Loki froze once more. "A friend of yours?" he asked quietly. She shook her head, trying her best to hold her breath. She whimpered fearfully. Loki stood up slowly, scanning the area. It was too dark to see. The strange beast hid well. Its eyes glowed in the darkness, but hid cleverly in the shadows. The raven haired prince gulped. The human clung to his side, shivering. It seemed he had no choice but to protect her.

Loki summoned blue fire into his palms. In the flare, the two saw a huge wolf. It snarled loudly and pounced; the children screamed in terror. Loki pushed the young girl into the snow, holding his arms up high above his head. If he was going to die, he may as well die looking like a hero. He jabbed his palms at it; the wolf reared. It was not sure how to react to the boy with the fire. It only knew it was hungry, and if it could get past the flames, it would have two nice meals. The beast lunged, jaws snapping. Loki hesitated fearfully. So many teeth. What was the likelihood that he would survive this situation? It was close to zero. There was a flash of light, and the flames died. The wolf's teeth chomped heavily on Loki's neck.

The girl screamed in terror.

The wolf looked around, confused. Where was its kill? The boy had vanished. Ah, but it did not matter to the hungry wolf. There was still one more tasty morsel before it. The girl trembled, backing up to a tree. It smacked its jaws at her, growling. It prepared to lunge. The branches overhead rustled, and a flash of blue flames dropped from the trees. It was the real Loki. The wolf lay dead in a heartbeat. If a blast of fire to the head did not kill it, then having a small deadweight drop onto its back surely did.

Loki pulled himself from the wolf's carcass. He was sore. A drop from so high up hurt even gods. The force of impact sent him through the beast's ribs; he was now covered in hot, steaming blood. Loki was not pleased.

But it did not matter to the girl. She flung herself onto him, covering his face with fervent kisses. Loki pried her off, startled. "Get a hold of yourself!" he snapped. His words were harsher than he'd intended, but he dismissed himself. He'd almost been eaten by a wolf for the sake of this human, and he still did not know who she was.

"My name is Siv," she finally struggled out, catching her breath. "I saw you come through the light, a hundred of you. Earlier. When the sun was still in the sky. You are gods."

Ah, so she'd witnessed their descent. She was not incorrect about the number. Somewhere, off in the night, the All-Father led a party of warriors across vast sheets of snow and ice for the sake of vicious entertainment. And she still clung to him. Loki, however, did not feel any particular desire to remove her now. It was uncommon to be praised so highly. He secretly delighted in having her cower beside him, as long as she refrained from kissing him again. Perhaps this was why Thor was so eager to be the strongest Asgardian.

_Thor._

Loki collected himself quickly, searching the darkness. Still no sign of his brother. Loki began to worry. Certainly someone heard the screaming. Where was he? It was then Loki realized he was not sure where he himself had wandered to, either. Earlier in the day, when the campsite was still full of burly men, the scouts declared that there were no human villages for some distance. Where had this girl come from, if Loki had not walked all the way out to the human village? The girl named Siv brushed the snow from her pelt. She cursed under her breath quietly. Ice was under her furs, and it seeped into her skin. "Cold," she hissed, patting herself down.

"Tis snow, obviously it is cold," Loki said simply. He watched her curiously. She clicked her tongue and stamped her foot at him. He could not resist a smile. So this is how a human was, then. All fire and struggle. He liked it. He liked her, too.

He blinked, shaking his head. That was rather forward. _'I didn't mean like that,'_ he chided. But Loki was not sure if he believed himself.

Siv was short and frail. Her furs seemed to swallow her. Her legs were ridiculously skinny and did not appear able to hold up her body. No wonder she was being chased by a wolf. She rubbed her face on her gloves and squatted in the ground. Loki was not sure how to react. He should be looking for his brother right now, not wandering around with some peculiar human girl.

"Can you get back to your village?" Loki tried. Obviously she'd come a long way. But she only shook her head. Her dark hair was tied in two braids that flipped side to side. It was comical. Loki dug a small cloth from his coat. Wrapped inside it was a small bit of meat jerky. It was only a snack, but he figured it would be kind to offer it to her. She quickly snatched it from him and chewed. Loki stood uncomfortably for a moment, before crouching beside her.

"Are you just going to stay here, then? Be chased by another wolf?" he asked.

The mortal nodded, staring off in the distance.

The Asgardian prince bristled and glared at her. She was not paying attention to him. What was she looking at? His eyes followed her trail and noticed an orange glow coming from the other side of a steep set of hills. A village. It was quite a journey from there to here, Loki mused. She must have travelled since noon. Since the Aesir arrived in Midgard.

"Why can you not go back?" he asked, sighing in annoyance. "It is only just down the hill. We can see it from here."

Once again, she shook her head. "Are you not freezing?" Siv questioned, eyeing him. Loki wore very little protection compared to her. A few layers of tunics and a heavy coat were not enough to protect a human from the cold. Loki shook his head. His body was more accustomed to the snow than many of his fellow Asgardians.

The human sighed, settling into his shoulder. Loki stiffened. What should he do? His initial response was to shove her away, but that would have been rude. His mother taught him better manners than that. She may have been a pathetic human, but she was still a girl. The prince eventually relaxed and tried resting his chin against the top of her head.

This was strange. This was beyond strange, this was unheard of. Loki sat in the snow with a mortal at his side and no idea where he was. She was shivering beside him. Should he hug her? He loosely put an arm around her shoulder. This was uncomfortable. His hand slipped and fell to the snow. How did he cover this? He wormed his arm between them and held her hand. That was more comfortable. It was still awkward, but he could handle this. She gripped his hand tightly. What now? She was still shivering. He had no blankets to warm her. If he could find his way back to his own camp, he would have gladly lent her one.

"You are not a protector, are you?" she whispered. Loki heard a crack in her voice. So she was crying, not shivering. Or perhaps she was doing both.

"No," he answered, unsure. What did she mean by protector? He was obviously not some brawny, adorned warrior. But he could hold his own in a fight with anyone his age except Thor, through the use of magic and daggers. He was decent at those. Not great, but decent. And he protected her from a hungry wolf. That at least was deserving of _some_ praise.

"But you are kind," she sniffled. Loki did not respond. He flushed a bit. He was not versed in interactions with girls. "Not many would sit with me like this."

"I suppose," Loki muttered. "But you should really stop crying. Your tears will freeze on your face and you will likely die."

The human girl rolled her eyes and wiped her face, sniffing. "Would not be the first time I've frozen my face like this."

Loki thought to himself quietly. But the human said no more, only rested her head against his shoulder and curled up to sleep. Thor was nowhere to be found, Loki decided, and he was most certainly lost. It would be better for him to stay here with this girl. The mortal slept for an hour against him.

The moon was high above them. Loki awoke with a start. When had he fallen asleep? He was still in the snow with the human. The human! Loki stood abruptly and shook her shoulders.

"What is it?" she asked, frantically looking around.

"I am not sure, but you need to go! Immediately!" he whispered. He was not playing.

The girl shook her head. Her eyes glazed in fright. "I cannot go back! I cannot!"

"You can! You must! I do not know what is coming, but I cannot protect you from it this time! Whatever it is that you fear down there, face it! When the sun rises tomorrow morning, I will come find you! Please, run!"

The girl hugged his neck and pecked his cheek, and in a flash she was gone. Loki refused to stare after her. If something dangerous was near, he did not want to give away her location. But she'd _kissed_ him again. And this time it felt different. If he did not turn around, would she know?

"Loki!"

The young prince trembled. Of course it would be that voice. "Father!" he called out, words small and weak.

A great horse with eight legs bounded through the drifts. Perched on his back was the All-Father. "Loki, what are you doing out here alone?" Odin asked. His eyes immediately went to the wolf carcass beside him, and the blood across Loki's face and chest.

Loki was amazed to not hear a barrage of scolding remarks. "Thor and I were playing seek-and-find, and I lost him. . ." he muttered.

Odin picked the boy up with one arm and sat him atop the eight-legged steed. He said nothing to his warriors; they continued on whatever course they travelled. Even with the snow, it was impossible to see which way the shadows went. Loki hoped it was not toward the human village on the opposite hill. The prince soon found himself approaching the Asgardian camp.

"Thank you, Father," the boy breathed, relieved to see his mother once more.

"Loki!" Frigga exclaimed, surprised to see him with her husband.

"I found him wandering in the snow." Odin cast a sharp glance at Thor. "Make sure to keep an eye on your younger brother. It is unacceptable to separate yourselves here."

Thor frowned sullenly and nodded. "Yes, Father," he mumbled. Odin turned and was gone, back through the dark woods after his warriors.

Frigga gathered up her two boys in her arms. "Oh, Loki, I was so worried! What is all this blood? Are you alright? What happened to you, you are filthy! Thor, do try not to lose your brother out here, alright? And Loki, if you suspect Thor's gone off on an adventure, tell me before you take off after him?"

"Yes, Mother," the boys replied in unison.

Frigga sent them off with a swat and a bowl of dinner. Bedtime was shortly after. The princes retired to their shared tent; Loki crawled onto his mat with a sigh. He truly hoped that human girl made it back to her village safely. He fully intended to visit her in the morning. By daylight, it would be easy to find. As long as he could get away from the camp early enough.

Loki fell asleep holding his cheek. The spots she kissed still buzzed with warmth, especially his lips. He wondered if it were some kind of allergic reaction to human saliva.

That night, the prince dreamt of the mortal named Siv. They played together and fought together in the snow. He felt at peace with her. Every time he asked a question she only shook her head, kissing him on the cheek once again. He was eager to know, but also became greedy with her affections. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt it was very unlike him to be so interested in anyone, let alone a human. But the back of his mind also knew this was a dream, and he let himself carry on. He decided, if it was acceptable, he would ask his mother if he could take this human back to Asgard when they returned. She would make a nice companion for him.

_20:25_

_23.1.14_


	2. First Death

It was a cruelly beautiful morning. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, spilling golden light over the snow. The clouds were exceptionally fluffy and complimented a rosy pink sky with an array of reds and purples. The raven haired prince snuck away from his camp shortly after breakfast. It was unlike him, his mother noted, but he was not concerned. She would not follow him. His father would. But Odin still had not returned from his riot with his warriors. He packed another pocket full of food for his human. _The_ human, he corrected his thoughts. The prince did not own her. Not yet. He grinned mischievously to himself.

It took nearly an hour to make it to the village on the opposite hill. Loki was tired, but he could not stop. He still had to make it back to his own camp. Smoke curled up from behind the trees. Loki hoped it was only a camp center-fire. The prince saw a huddled shape before him. He hid himself for a moment, collecting his wits.

A small distance away, a girl of no more than eleven years old crouched against the edge of the surrounding forest. She was careful to not sit on the ice. She was young, but she knew that if she got much colder, she would die of frostbite. Her furs were already soaked. She made the mistake of trying to stay warm by the remnants of her village. It did more harm than good, as the snow on her pelts melted and soaked deep into them. It was Siv.

"What a mess," a voice murmured behind her. She did not look up. Instead, she clenched her teeth to silence the dry sobs echoing in her tiny throat. The tears had long since dried away.

"What a mess," the voice repeated, louder this time. The voice belonged to a boy. The young girl rubbed her face on her gloves and stood. She did not turn to face him. She knew who he was.

"I only went back because you told me to. . . Is this my punishment?" Siv whispered. Her voice was tight. Her tiny hands balled into tight fists inside her gloves.

He was confused, letting a smile slip from his lips as he spoke. "Punishment for what?"

The little girl spun on her heel and punched the familiar boy in the jaw with all her might. Her dark brown braids whirled around her like a storm. Ice blue eyes burned against fiery cheeks as she glared at him. Or rather, glared at the nothingness behind her. Loki disappeared. All that remained was a glittering cloud of golden dust.

A few trees away, he slowly stepped into the open. His eyes were wide in shock as he rubbed his chin. Loki hadn't felt the punch, of course, and was thankful his doppelgänger had taken the fall for him.

"That was uncalled for," the raven haired prince called hesitantly. He shifted into a stance that made it easier to dart away, should this tiny mortal dare try to land a blow on the real body.

He was right to prepare himself; suddenly the small, mourning human bundled in furs ran toward him at an impossible speed, a flurry of snow following her. He shouted in terror and ran as if his life depended on it. As a matter of fact, it probably _did._ Never had he expected that his first human encounter would be a life-or-death experience.

Siv chased him for what felt like eternity, and eternity was incredibly long to a god. Even a young one. He was small but moved quick as a striking viper. Finally, with one last burst of energy, she jumped and landed on his back. As he toppled over, she flew over him. They both sat up groaning with mouths full of snow.

"Demon!" he shouted, sitting up as he wiped the ice from his face. "Foul mortal! How dare you – you _headbutt _me! I'm a prince! The throne will be mine one day, I'll have you know!" He stomped over and tugged on one of her braids. They were a mess. To add insult to injury, he tugged it so much as he shouted that the braid came undone. "Look how silly you look with only one braid!" he sneered, flouncing with her hair.

Instead of swatting him away, or punching him again, as she was at a good distance to do so, she just sat there in the snow. She had tried so hard to keep herself dry and now there was no point. She would likely freeze to death. She had no family now. The village was dead. She didn't even have food to eat. Winter was setting in, and she would surely die. Her eyes slowly filled with tears and she hiccupped a sob. "I'm gonna die," she whimpered, looking up at him with big, sad eyes and one undone braid. It was really quite pathetic.

Her mortality was more than obvious. He almost – _almost_ – felt sorry for her. She was a little animal, unable to care for itself and completely aware it was going to starve to death.

"What happened?" he asked, coming closer to her. Perhaps today, he would receive some answers.

"I should not have left. I was a coward. I made it back this morning. I was ready to apologize, ready to admit my mistakes but. . . Everyone is dead. The whole village was burned to the ground. I should have stayed. I should have just faced my fears head on. Is this my punishment?" she whimpered, staring out over the destruction.

Something stirred within the prince.

Suddenly, he took her hand and picked her up from the ground. Well, to be accurate, he quite literally dragged her to her feet. She was hardly willing to stand up on her own.

"Stand up!" he said sharply, "Do you want to live?"

She looked up at him, tears staining those rosy cheeks and snot trailing out of her nose.

He grimaced a bit. "Do you want to live?" he repeated.

She faintly nodded. What was he going to do? Surely this was a trick. Gods don't care for humans. Gods _never_ care for humans. Humans were mere playthings, tiny, short-lived ants to gods. "I. . . I want to live," she whimpered.

Maybe it was the stir of a familial bond. What was this desire to protect? Is this what Thor felt towards him, this overwhelming sensation in his little heart? Whatever it was, it brought a warmth to Loki's face that he wanted to share with this pathetic girl. He took a deep breath and practically headbutted her, slamming his cheek into hers and rubbing with all his might. She shrieked and tried to push him away.

"Stop squirming, I'm trying to warm you up!" he snapped. He found it amusing that she was so eager to embrace him the night before, yet now hardly wanted him within reach.

"Don't touch me!" she squealed in fright, trying to block his face with her hand. "I'm warm enough!"

"No you're not, you frightened rabbit! I'm going to keep you warm so you can live!"

"I need _food_ more than I need to be warm!" she retorted, stamping her foot.

He pulled away, still holding firmly onto her hand. His cheek was wet with her tears, and it felt surprisingly sorer than he anticipated. What good was trying to share his emotion if all it did was make his face hurt? He looked over the young girl, who stared up at him in wary shock. He snickered; she really did look like a frightened animal now, startled out of her skin with one side of her hair all mussed up.

Ah, yes, food. Loki patted his pockets in search of the sweet roll he'd saved for her. Siv looked at it, biting her lip. Finally, she accepted, stuffing the small treat into her cheek as if she were a squirrel, saving it for later. Loki chuckled. He took her by the hand and pulled her closer to his side. Not too close, of course. That would have been improper.

"Come on," he said, more cheerily than he intended. "I can give you more food if you come back to my camp with me. My mother and father and brother are here in Midgard, just beyond this stretch of wood. They will be friendly. And besides, you do not have a home to go to anymore, right? Let us return to my family. I want you to meet them, so I can keep you."

"_'Keep'_ me?" she repeated, tone offended.

"Keep you." He flashed her a cheeky smile. "You can be my pet."

She shoved him violently and he lost his footing, stumbling and falling into the snow.

She laughed and ran off.

He followed.

"Stop running so fast!" he called out to her.

Her laughter echoed through the trees. He was surprised she was so joyful for witnessing the destruction of her entire village. He slowed to catch his breath, gripped his knees and casually inspected her footprints. She ran on the balls of her feet, he noticed. Why was that important? It wasn't. He frowned and shook his head, breath successfully caught.

"Too tired, trickster?" she called, peering out coyly from behind a tree. She had yet to fix her unraveled braid. As a matter of fact, he still had the strip of leather in his pocket. He had no intention of giving it back, either.

He stood straight and eyed her. "Am I really that famous?" he said proudly.

"Hardly," she snorted, coming back to him. "I just know a lot about mythology. My mother taught it to me." It took her a moment to realize what she'd said. Her face fell again and in her eyes he could see her retreating inside herself. He reached forward and slapped her forehead.

"None of that!" he said. He took her hand and pulled her forward. Her glove felt very cold. He hoped that it was only on the outside. If a human got too cold, it died. He did not want her to die. Not yet, anyway. She still had a good fifty years ahead of her, at least. He then realized that was hardly a breath of time compared to his lifespan. They appeared the same age now, but not for long.

A distant call echoed through the trees, breaking his concentration.

"Ah, that's my mother," he said. "Hold on a moment."

He let go of her hand and rolled himself a ball of snow. It wasn't very big, but fit snugly in his hand. He blew a shallow breath over it. His newfound companion stared curiously as the snow began to writhe and wriggle. A white head popped up. The human gasped. The trickster turned a clump of snow into a living weasel.

It jumped from his hand and dashed off.

"It's going to tell them I'm coming back. We need to hurry though." He took her hand once more and tugged her along.

"BROTHER!"

The mortal squeaked, startled.

The trickster gave a loud grunt as he was tackled with a hug. "Thor, get off!" he groaned, trying his best to frown.

"Who is this?" Thor said, perking up as he looked at the human.

Siv gave a shy wave. "Eyes of the sky and hair of the sun. I know who _you_ are," she said quietly. Thor grinned proudly.

"You know who I am too, right?" came an anxious voice from underneath the blond.

"Everyone knows of the trickster Loki," she said, running her hand through her untied braid. She winked playfully at him.

'_I thought you said I was hardly famous,'_ he thought with a frown.

"Loki!"

A beautiful woman dressed in a golden gown stepped between the two boys. The snow weasel ran up and down her arms. She was almost too gorgeous to gaze upon. The young girl had trouble keeping her mouth closed whilst being awe-struck.

"I was wondering where you'd run off to. We will be returning home shortly. Your father is gathering his men. Seems they went on a bit of a. . . well, who is this?" she asked softly. The beautiful woman gazed warmly at the shivering mortal girl before her.

"Siv," the young girl choked out.

"Siv, you say? There is a young Lady Sif back in Asgard," she murmured pleasantly. "I am Frigga, the All-Mother, Queen of Asgard. These are my sons, of whom I believe you've already met. Thor. Loki. Coming over the ice is my husband, the King and All-Father Odin." Frigga watched her husband momentarily before returning her attention to the three children in front of her. She noted Loki's concern for the small human child and cast a brief onceover. "My, what happened to your hair?" she chuckled, patting down the mess.

"He – I – we were just playing," she stuttered, staring up at Frigga with her incredibly blue eyes.

"Mother, there was something I wanted to ask you," Loki started, pulling on her sleeve. She smiled at him, waiting for him to continue. The young boy turned to look at his mortal companion, and pulled her closer playfully by the remaining braid. "Mother, she does not have anywhere to go. Her family is. . . gone. She will die without a family to care for her."

Frigga clicked her tongue, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Are you asking to take her back to Asgard with us? Do I sense a growing bond?"

Loki ducked his head between his shoulders, fumbling with Siv's tie in his pocket. His ears burned red. Why?

The All-Mother looked at the young girl. She seemed to get along well with Loki, and was not put off by the idea of gods. A simple bite from an apple of Idunn and she would be Aesir like the rest of them. "I have no quarrel against the decision," she answered. The children beamed at each other.

The All-Mother then noticed that Siv's furs were completely wet. The child's face was hot as fire, and her breath was short and heavy. As Odin approached, the mortal fainted, collapsing into Frigga's arms.

"What is this?" Odin laughed as he approached, retiring from his horse as he came to greet his family. "A wandering, scraggly vagabond? Humans are such fleeting creatures. Come, let us return home."

Frigga greeted him with a face of concern and mild annoyance. "She smells of smoke and burns with a fever. Perchance, did you set fire to any villages last night on your ride?"

Odin stood back a bit, stroking his beard. "I did."

Loki's eyes widened. He tugged on his mother's dress. She knew instantly.

"And, perchance, did you slaughter the survivors?" Frigga said, voice rising.

Odin then knew as well. "I did." His voice did not waver, nor did his pleasant mood.

The Asgardian camp was set up once again. There was an odd sort of silence around the area; no one quite knew how to feel about the situation. It was obviously a mother's duty to take care of an ill child, but this child was _human._ Mortals hardly lasted longer than a night. Some felt guilty about burning the village at all. Others felt guilty for not making sure to kill every last survivor. Their return was set back a day as Frigga tended to this girl. The sun sank low once more.

Frigga was on high alert now. None but her children could approach her. Even Odin was cast from her tent. He sat outside, scowling at the camp's center fire. He chomped angrily on a large piece of meat jerky. It was not hard to understand why: the King of Asgard was cast out of his wife's tent for the sake of some irrelevant human.

Loki sat close to Siv, staring at her with a blank expression. He was stiff as a corpse. Inside, he brewed with sadness and shock at his father's actions. It was hardly uncommon for him to blaze a trail through human settlements. Loki just never expected to meet and befriend a survivor of one. He reached out to touch her hand. It was cold and clammy. His mother had undressed the girl, and she laid unconscious under dry furs. One braid was still unraveled. He fingered the leather string in his pocket.

"Will she wake up?" Thor asked from the foot of Siv's bedding.

Loki looked at his elder brother, slightly surprised. He was thankful Thor asked, however, because he knew he would never be brave enough to ask the question himself.

Frigga sat back, rubbing her hands together. "Why don't you boys eat and rest. When you wake up, she'll be better."

Thor nodded, stood, and exited the tent. Loki did not budge. His eyes were fixed on Siv's chest. He watched her breathe, making sure she did not stop. Frigga patted his head softly. "She'll be alright," she assured him. Loki leaned against his mother and eventually fell asleep without dinner. Frigga put him to bed beside the young girl. Siv seemed to find comfort in having the Aesir prince by her side. Their hands found each other's in sleep, resting on their pillows between them.

The night was long and Siv did not get better. She had stayed in her wet pelts for too long and came down with a heavy wave of pneumonia. Loki awoke several times throughout the night to make sure she was still alive. Siv opened her eyes just once, come dawn. She smiled at him, faintly, and leaned into his hand on her cheek. She opened her mouth to speak, but if she said anything it was too faint to hear. Loki watched in horror as she died beside him. He did not cry, but slowly removed his hand from underneath her face, stood, and left the tent.

It was a cruelly beautiful morning.

_23:33_

_1.1.14_


	3. Cosmic Cube

There was something magical to Loki about meeting a human for the first time. She was certainly not what he expected. The raven haired prince often imagined humans to be weak and tiny things, always huddled around a center fire and staring fearfully into the shadows. But this girl was all alone. Loki found her by chance. If she'd not run from her village, if she'd not been chased by a wolf, they would have never met. Instead of watching the remnants of her village burn, sitting in the stench of smoke that reeked of rotted wood and burning flesh, she would have been dead. Loki saved her life in two ways, yet she still died. It must have been a terrifying event for her. And what did she mean by her "punishment"? Had she hurt someone before the All-Father destroyed her home? The young prince's mind ran away with the possibilities as he paced his chamber room floor.

Perhaps she'd argued with her parents and said awful things to them. She was still innocent enough to believe that was cause for such drastic punishment.

Perhaps she was betrothed and refused to marry, vowing one of them would die before she took his hand. She was strong enough to deny bowing to the laws of matrimony.

Perhaps she'd murdered someone to save herself. She was old enough to know how to kill.

Perhaps she'd done all three. Loki trembled. He did not care what happened in Siv's past. That was his human. She was _his_ human. And now she was gone. Dead. Sadness gripped his heart once again. She would have made the perfect Aesir. The perfect friend. What if she'd been his soul partner? So what if she was born a mortal. There were ways to fix that.

Loki begged his mother and father to hold a funeral for the young girl. They complied, much to the All-Father's chagrin. A child-sized longboat was prepared for Siv. In the hours spent preparing for the human's funeral, Loki found it harder and harder to leave her side. Why had he felt so strongly for this insignificant child? They'd spent hardly more than a day together, laughing and playing and carrying on in the deep wood. He touched his cheek. He could still feel Siv's tearstains on his face.

Midgard was a world away now, as was Siv. It troubled him deeply that he could not understand why he felt this way. What was it? Admiration? Curiosity? Betrayal? He dared not think it to be love.

'_How ridiculous,'_ he thought, scoffing, _'that I could even question the idea of it being love. A god does not fall in love with a mortal any more than the spirit of ice could love the spirit of fire.'_ That in itself sparked a lengthy internal debate if it was considered acceptable for a fire and ice spirit to be wed. He decided that it would be possible only if one could sacrifice its comfort for the sake of its beloved, for, where could they be together, if they ruled such separate worlds?

"Brother, do not frown so much," Thor said, breaking Loki's concentration. "I know you are disappointed, but your face will likely stick that way. Won't that be a sight," he added, laughing. Thor pushed his younger brother off to their beds, Loki protesting the whole way there. If he did not complete his cycle of thoughts, he would never sleep properly.

Frigga entered their room with a candelabrum in one hand and a large book in the other. Loki stared at it curiously, trying to catch a glimpse of the cover. He did not recognize this volume. It was old and dusty.

"Are you going to read us a story?" Thor asked excitedly, trampling around on his bed.

Loki rolled his eyes as he settled into his pillows. "Obviously," he mumbled.

Frigga smiled and sat herself in the rickety chair between the princes' beds.

"Let me choose the story tonight, Mother! Please?" Thor said, reaching for the book.

"But you chose the last three stories!" Loki retorted, sitting up to reach for the book as well.

"I am choosing the story tonight," Frigga chided, ushering them both back into their beds. Her boys groaned. She clicked her tongue. "You'll find use in this one, I promise." The princes settled into their pillows, casting each other a weary glance. Frigga opened the giant tome and cleared her throat.

"From the heart of the first star came a most curious object. It was a cube, glowing, blue and tiny. Hardly a speck of the star's size. The cube was actually the star itself, separated into two sentient beings. The cube generated so much heat and light that it encased itself in a spinning ball of fire to help cool itself down. The star was an emotional being, while the cube was more logical. The cube housed enough knowledge and power and energy inside it to create several universes.

"The cube, nestled inside the star, traveled through the blackness of an empty universe. Together, the cube and the star created more stars, which eventually became galaxies and realms and planets. The cube created an entire universe of heat and light and life from inside itself. But the star, which doted on the cube, felt more alone than ever. Its entire life was devoted to helping the cube move from place to place as it spread its creation. The star was bitter and sad. The cosmic cube did not appreciate the star. If something were to happen, it could generate a new star and continue on.

"The cosmic cube could not quell its partner's anger. It was not an emotional being. By use of logic, it only ruined the star's hopes. The death of the first star was quick: it exploded, casting out its rage across all corners of the universe. Most of the cube's hard work was destroyed in the blast. The star disintegrated in sadness, and became the first black hole.

"The cube plummeted through time and space, hoping to land on a stretch of rock to start again. It could not create while tumbling through remnants of its first universe. Eventually, the cube landed in Asgard. The impact was so great that it knocked a chip from the cube's side. The cube became two pieces. The smaller piece held anger and sadness and evil. The larger was joy and peace and goodness. Together, the two pieces of the same cube recreated the world they'd lost. From the ground, the larger piece of the cube created Yggdrasil, the World Tree, and ascended within the branches. The smaller shard, unable to keep up, was swallowed into the bark of Yggdrasil.

"The good half of the cosmic cube thought little of it. From the top of Yggdrasil, a ball of blue light pulled itself from the cube's core. This became the first soul, the original. The cube mended the corner of itself where it had chipped from the fall, and sat in wait.

"The soul travelled Asgard in search of a host. It became the first Asgardian creature. But the soul saw more vessels. Plants, animals, fungi. The soul split itself with the death of every body, becoming more and more. The good cube still sat atop the Yggdrasil. It absorbed every thought and emotion the splitting soul experienced. The cube slowly learned why its star felt so angry. But the cube also knew that it was much too late to apologize to its partner. The World Tree extended and grew far beyond the realm. There was not enough matter in the universe to support the giant tree, so the cube transformed Yggdrasil into something called dark matter. Yggdrasil became what would hold the nine realms together. The cube left Asgard and the splitting soul to itself; it could still witness Asgardian life through the souls, and decided it was unnecessary to stay. It travelled for centuries along the ever-growing branches of the dark matter tree. It created new worlds and new realms. By the time the cube decided it was time to return to Asgard, it was no longer the realm the cube had created. The souls became their own beings, growing and expanding and changing the world to fit their bodies' needs.

"The soul split so many times that the original soul was not recognizable even to itself. The cube knew, but time and distance severed communication with the original soul. So, the cube landed itself in a dark cavern and settled in. From this spot, the cube could see every soul in every world as it "lived" and "died" and split. The cosmic cube lived vicariously through everything at once. When the vessel died, the soul returned to the cube to unload its memories. Vessels could not handle a soul's aged collection of information. But after unloading, the souls set off to find more vessels and live more lives. The cube powered every living creature on the planet.

"Soon, the creatures of Asgard learned of the cosmic cube and gave it a name. The cosmic cube became the Tesseract, and through it, the Aesir learned how to travel worlds. They built the Bifrost using the Tesseract's energy, a great rainbow bridge to the realms beyond. They discovered living beings in most every world. Some were not as good and friendly as the Asgardians.

"The cube finally realized that the small shard, the chip from its shoulder, was missing. It had many eons to brood in loneliness. But by this time, the good cube could understand why its partner was upset. The good cube called the Tesseract had learned that betrayal was the root of sadness, and the root of evil was betrayal.

"The cube traveled to every realm in search of the broken shard. It was found hiding in the icy pits of Niflheim, where the world was covered in mist and ice. It was a lonely place. The two pieces of the Tesseract met and conversed. The good half, the whole half, apologized deeply for its actions. It had not meant to forget about its other piece. It was too busy building and expanding to care. It begged the piece to return to the whole.

"The shard, however, was not pleased. In the time the Tesseract had spent alone, it reformed itself. There was no longer a piece missing from its shoulder. The shard felt unneeded. But even in its disappointment, it longed for company. The two pieces could not become one. The Tesseract feared its shard would become like the star it had lost so long ago. The Tesseract took the shard to Nidavellir, the realm of the Dwarves. The Dwarves took the shard and polished it, shaped it into a gem. The gem of the Tesseract was beautiful, and set into a golden staff. The shard was loved. The Tesseract and the shard parted ways, thanking each other.

"But there was something different about the shard and the cube. The Tesseract was larger, denser, and could house more information. The shard was but a fragment of its old body. It could transfer souls, but it could not clean them of their memories in preparation for a new host. The shard, however beautiful and desired, became bitter once more. It could not "create" existence like its equivalent. It tried and tried, but the only thing the shard could do was slowly rip apart an existing soul; it could wedge an uncleansed spirit into a host already living; and, it could corrupt the will of its beholder, bending its mind to the shard's will. The bitter shard became a sought-after weapon for many dark beings, and was lost.

"By this time, every soul in every realm had developed a personality of its own. The souls were only a life force. They no longer were sentient creatures that inhabited vessels. Some species delved deep into the idea of creation, came up with their own, and the Tesseract became an irrelevant piece of time. Over the course of history, certain souls became destined to meet each other. At the very least, they strived to meet each other in every life. Some say the original soul walks the nine realms in search of both pieces of the cube. Others say it searches for the star. Either way, the original soul will continue splitting for eternity. One might say that it is the journey that makes the destination important. If you do not reach what you desire in this life, there will always be another to follow."

Frigga closed her book. Thor fell asleep ages ago, and was snoring softly into his pillow. Loki sat with his chin on his knees, listening intently to his mother's words. It was obvious to the younger prince that this story was meant for him.

"Mother," he asked softly, "how does the splitting of the souls work, exactly? Do they just peel apart from each other like citrus slices?"

Frigga thought for a moment.

"This story was to be read to the humans. The concept of the souls is a bit different from the way I was taught. Here in Asgard, we can be reborn into our own bodies if we die in battle. Our bodies are virtually immortal and our soul stays with us forever. The human souls are the ones most like the ones from the beginning. Those souls can only inhabit one singular body and then must move on. They are always travelling, always searching for another host. And sometimes, if the human committed a sin, a murder, an atrocity, the soul is split. One tainted soul becomes two, a pure and a dark soul. And as humans live, they also die, and kill to survive. But, as a clean soul can split into a murky one, an evil soul can also split itself into a good one.

"If you are looking for a way to imagine it, I suppose citrus slices are the best way. Or perhaps, the lighting of one candle from another."

It was silent for a moment as Loki studied his knees.

Frigga leaned forward and placed her hand on his cheek. "Is something troubling you, my son? Is it the human?"

Loki nodded sullenly. If there was ever going to be a time to ask, it was now. Frigga offered her lap to the young prince, which he gratefully accepted. Loki took a deep breath.

"There is just so much I do not understand, Mother. I think, when I met her, she was not only running from the wolf but from something in her village, as well. She was so against going back. I could tell. I never asked her outright, but I could tell. And I made her go back, I forced her, because Father was coming and I was afraid he would have scolded me, or worse. . . And when I found her in the morning, she was beside herself on the outskirts of the village. Father and his warriors had destroyed it, but something she said bothers me even now."

Frigga was not surprised.

"She asked me if it was her punishment. The village burning. Everyone's death. She seemed to firmly believe she'd done something that warranted the destruction of her home. I know it is not likely that it happened, but. . . I cannot shake the idea that maybe it was true. That she'd betrayed someone, or murdered someone accidentally. I fear for her, even after her death. I know I will never see her again, yet I still. . ."

The All-Mother shushed her mourning child. She wondered if perhaps her legend's truth did more harm than good. "Do not fret, my child. You will likely see her again. It is rare that you find such compatibility in another being. I truly wish we could have brought her to Asgard with us. If I'd thought to take her to the healers instead of try to heal her myself, she might be with us right now. For that, I am truly sorry. But do not give up. If Siv is a human soul, you will see her again. It might take some time, and she might not be the exact girl you met, but you will see her again. My only hope is that you recognize her, and understand that she might not remember you. Be patient. Awakening is a curious thing."

"Have you ever awoken an old soul's memories, Mother?" Loki asked, looking up at her.

Frigga kissed her youngest son on the forehead and tucked him into the linens. "Go to sleep, now," she hushed. "That is a story for much later." Loki hummed in response. The All-Mother collected her candelabrum and made her way to the door.

"Mother?" Loki questioned, sitting up once more. "The morning before we went to Midgard, Father took us to the weapons vault. He told us the story of what happened with the Frost Giants and the casket, the battle, everything. We all talked about what it meant to be a king, but there is something he said that I do not understand."

"What is that?" she asked.

Loki frowned in thought. "Father said that there was only to be one king of Asgard, but we – Thor and I were both born to be kings. I do not understand. What did he mean? If we cannot share the throne, how am I to be a king as well?"

Frigga's face fell for just a moment. Or, perhaps it was a trick of the candle light. "I am afraid I do not have an answer for your question this time. That is something you will need to ask him yourself." Loki nodded and settled back into his pillows.

Hours passed, the young prince's mind running rampant. What happened to the star, exactly, to make it so upset? What were the words shared between the cube and its star? To the wrong ears, the star could have been considered an evil fellow. Annoying, at the very least. Loki desperately wanted to know exactly what set the star off. And then there was the strange sensation he could not quell with his father's words. What had he meant? What else was there to rule, if not for Asgard? It was as if the All-Father suggested he rule a different realm. Cast away from his home and family. Surely, this was not Odin's plan. Even worse, Loki's body begged to weep for Siv. He sorely missed her.

Thousands of questions crammed their way into his mind, all fighting for front and center to be answered. Loki finally succumbed to sleep at dawn, carried off with a few silent tears.

_17:44_

_25.1.14_


	4. The Cliff

Days, weeks, months passed before Loki regularly spoke again. The young boy was not angry with his father. Odin was a dangerous god, of war and death. He understood that the village was burnt for amusement. He also understood that Frigga was angry with her husband on the first night, not for destroying the humans, but for leaving a helpless child in the snow to die a lonely death. Thor's shock at the All-Father's actions was soon forgotten, but Loki did not recover from watching Siv die. Whenever he touched the leather strip in his pocket, he saw her in his mind clear as day. He began to notice things he did not realize at first. He noticed her legs trembling, her perpetually dripping nose, how the color in her cheeks seemed dangerously out of place on her stark face. Even in his mind, Siv was dying. Nothing could quell his thoughts about the young human child he met in the days of his visit to old Scandinavia. Loki could not handle the sadness. The raven haired prince locked the strip away in a box, pushed it to the back of the highest shelf in his room and forgot about it.

He often sat at the window of the great hall, tottering precariously over the edge as daring children like to do. It caused him a great deal of discomfort to be in the great hall of the Asgardian palace when the sun set. The hall became Valhalla, where dead soldiers were revived to feast and make merry. He could not see or feel them, of course, because they were all spirits, but it still put him off. He knew Siv would not be there; instead she would likely be in Hel, a ghost forever, still and silent.

Or perhaps she wasn't.

Perhaps his mother's story about the cosmic cube and the soul had truth to it, and Siv was wandering Earth in search of her next host. He never visited Helheim to check. The idea of surrounding himself with souls that were too tired to wander unnerved him.

Instead, he often asked Frigga to tell him stories about souls and death and humans. He asked lots of questions about other things, too, as to discourage his mother from thinking he was still worried about Siv. But Frigga was a wise mother. She delicately tiptoed around the matter he was most anxious about.

"Rebirth is a curious thing," Frigga would often tell him. "Be patient. I am sure you will see her again."

However, even though Loki convinced himself it was possible to meet Siv once more, he did not visit Midgard for quite some time. He was too busy learning about his own world and how it worked. While Thor spent his days being the star child of the family, Loki hid away in Asgard's vast library. He learned magic and history and art. What he lacked in physical strength, he made up for in intelligence. He could not compete with the beloved Thor, but he could surely outwit him. In fact, when drawn into a friendly wrestling match for the first time by his older – and much larger – brother, Loki easily put him on his back with a few simple vanishing tricks.

Again and again, each time Loki was called out to play, he tricked his golden haired brother with magic. Sometimes he was a snake, other times a great bear. Once, he even turned into the young Lady Sif to distract Thor. The flirting alone gave the golden haired prince heart palpitations. (Loki then earned a kick to the back from the real Sif, who had been watching amongst the crowd of children.) He was strengthening his talent much quicker than anyone anticipated. Within sixty short years, the boy perfected his doppelgänger technique. It was no longer tiresome or strenuous. He became the prince of magic to his young peers.

Loki was well into the first stages of Asgardian puberty by the time he was ready to go back to the Bifrost. His courage was unusually strong this morning. It carried him all the way to the observatory without breakfast. Roughly two hundred years had passed since the royal family last visited Midgard. Two hundred years was not enough time for the humans to advance much, Loki thought with dismay. But as approached the observatory, his courage retreated with each step. He found it harder and harder to move forward. Heimdall towered over him like a wall. '_This is no time to get cold feet!_' he scolded himself. But it was hard to keep the same conviction with Heimdall in the way. The last of Loki's bravery deserted him as he stood before the gatekeeper and overseer. Heimdall might have smiled; it was often hard to tell.

They looked at each other for a long, tense moment.

"You are here surprisingly early," the overseer stated simply.

The raven haired prince said nothing.

"I did not expect you until after lunch, when your mother and father would leave you boys alone to take care of their duties."

Silence.

"I hope you do not intend to try and convince me to let you pass."

A warning shot. Loki flinched.

"I know exactly what you have come here seeking. Do not forget I know all and see all. You are but a child; you could not possibly hope to survive Midgard by yourself, no matter how talented you are. I would recommend going back, before Odin discovers you are abandoning your lessons as well. Taking after your brothers today, I see."

Loki dropped his gaze. He could not argue with Heimdall. Heimdall shook his head slowly as the boy turned tail without a word. The overseer was relieved Loki gave up his foolish plan, but it brought him a sliver of guilt to see the prince so dejected.

'_How ridiculous of me,'_ Loki thought to himself, '_that I truly thought I was prepared for this_.'

The raven haired prince trudged back across the bridge to the palace, head hung in defeat.

'_A fairy tale._'

Loki clenched and unclenched his fists. His body ached in embarrassment. It made it difficult to walk the length of the great bridge a second time.

'_I almost whisked myself off on a great adventure for the sake of some idiotic fairy tale. How do I even know Siv is alive on Midgard? I do not. I cannot believe I was so stupid to think I could have actually done this. What did I think would happen when I got to the observatory? That it would be left open and Heimdall nowhere to be seen? I am so stupid. Stupid!' _

"You frown so much," a voice giggled.

Loki ignored it, too busy agonizing over his situation.

"Oh, come now," it said, elbowing his shoulder.

Loki looked up angrily. "I am not in a gaming mood!" he snarled.

Siv stood before him, as small and frail and lively as she ever was. Loki cried out in fright.

"What did I do?" Thor said, startled, grabbing his younger brother by the shoulders. No, it was Siv. Thor? Siv. Loki shook his head fiercely, squeezing his eyes shut. He opened them again. Thor. The raven haired prince struggled to calm his heaving gasps.

"What was that?" Thor asked. He was worried.

"No, no, tis nothing," Loki assured. He offered a weak smile. "I cannot sleep and I have yet to eat a meal."

Thor asked Loki a barrage questions. The raven haired prince could not hear him. Thor's voice was muffled, distant. Loki could not keep his eyes trained on Thor's face. He felt like he was going to be sick. Why had he seen Siv so suddenly? Was she there because he backed down from going to Midgard? Was she angry at him? His head throbbed, his stomach churned. His breath came in short ragged gulps. What was happening? He felt like he was going to be sick. Before he knew it, Loki collapsed.

Loki sat up with a start. He was in his own bed, but the room was different. Actually, there was no room at all. Just white. Whiteness everywhere. His eyes focused, and he discovered it was snow. Snow? In his bedroom? But it was not his bedroom. There seemed to be a sun overhead, as white as the scene around him. He must have been dreaming. Loki sighed quietly and folded over himself, digging his palms into his eye sockets. The pressure was real. And the chill in the air was certainly real, too. Loki rubbed his palms together. He may have been accustomed to cold temperatures, but this was a shock to the earlier summer weather. He pulled the covers up to his chin and buried his face into the pillow. If it was a dream, he only had to wake up.

Something shifted in his bed.

Loki paled. Something shifted in his bed. _Something shifted in his bed._ And it most definitely was not he. He cautiously lifted the linens to see what lay beside him. It was large, covered in thick fur. A bear? No, a wolf. A wolf lay in his bed. No, where was the muzzle? The teeth? And then he saw it.

Her.

"Siv," Loki choked out.

His tiny human lay curled on her side, pelts up to her nose. She rested beside him on his pillow, just as peaceful as she'd been the morning she died. Her fever must have broken the moment her body decided it was going to give up. She opened her eyes and gazed up at him. Those clear blue eyes. Aesir-worthy eyes. He let out a strangled sob.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry. Next time I will be brave. Next time I won't back down. Next time, I'll go. I promise. So do not be angry with me, okay? Please, Siv, do not be angry. . ." Loki buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

But Siv only smiled at him. She sat up and peeled his fingers from his face. "I'm not angry," she murmured.

It was too much for the anguished boy. He shoved her away and ran. Ran as far from her as he could. He turned back to see if she was chasing – to his mortification, Siv was right on his heels. She seemed to float over the fresh snow as she kept his pace. When his Aesir body tired of running, he became a horse. Horses were faster than humans. He looked behind – she rode on his back lightly. He became a black hawk. Humans could not fly. He looked behind – she glided beside him with her arms outstretched.

"Stay away from me!" he cried. "Just stay away! You are not real! You are dead!" He caught a gust of wind and it sent him tumbling into a snow drift. He hit it with his boyish body. Hard. The pain was agonizing, but he could not worry about that now. He only needed to get away from her. Get away. Run. _'Run.'_ He picked himself up and stumbled a short distance. The snow gave out underneath him; he felt weightless. Falling. It was then Loki realized he'd run himself off the edge of a cliff.

"No!" Siv screamed. She grabbed him by his sore arm and pulled him back. They flopped into the snow. Loki looked up at her through his tears. At least now she showed some difference in expression. He wiped his face, still sobbing quietly. Siv flashed him a fearful smile.

"Look," she said softly. She pointed to the snow. It took a few moments before Loki realized what she'd done. They stood at the edge where the land touched the sky. The cliff gave way to nothingness. It was a solid drop into oblivion. He looked up at her.

So many questions filled his brain, but the only thing he could ask was, "Why?"

Siv crawled closer to him on her hands and knees. She took his hand in hers. "You saved me thrice. Let me return the favor."

Thrice. Thrice? Loki shook his head. It was only once, from a wolf. And in the end, she still died. '_Still dead.'_

Siv smiled as if she knew his thoughts. "Once from danger. Once from fear. Once from loneliness. Thrice."

But Siv was dead. Dead. How could she save anyone? How could she do anything? Why? Dead. Spirit. Wandering. Why would she save someone not worth saving? Stop. '_Stop.'_

"Stop," he begged weakly. "You are dead. In the end, you are still dead."

Siv nodded slowly. "I am," she answered. Loki let out a low moan of pain. "But I am alive in you, here." She pointed to his heart. "And sometimes I am alive, here." She pointed to her own heart. "Do not give up. Please, please, do not give up. I'll always be here. If I am not here, I am there. I am always somewhere. You just have to know when and where to find me."

"Since when did you speak in riddles?" Loki asked, a tiny bit of sarcasm slipping through his voice.

Siv quirked a grin at him and stood. "If you're going to be that way. . ."

"Don't leave!" Loki said quickly, reaching for her.

"Oh, you are awake," Frigga murmured, sitting back down.

Loki sat up sharply. "Don't leave!" he said again.

"I shan't, I shan't," his mother chuckled. "I am right here."

Loki looked around. It was his room once more, his bed, his walls. He quickly checked his covers. No Siv. He heaved a sigh, tears welling in his eyes. But, somehow, he felt relieved. "Mother. . ."

"I know that voice," she hummed, offering him a glass of water. Loki declined. "That is the voice of a boy with a story."

Loki nodded and retold her all the events in his dream.

"And it felt so _real_, Mother. I thought I was actually going to die when she pulled me up. I had no idea it was there. But then, if she's vowed to save me thrice. . ."

Frigga shushed her boy and placed a cool hand on his forehead. "It seems she is keeping an eye on you. Rest for a bit. You are still fatigued. I will bring you food." She stood and made her way to the door. "Oh, and," – Frigga turned to face him – "Do not let your father know you went to the Bifrost by yourself." She winked at him and left.

Thor slipped into the room shortly after the All-Mother departed. "You should come play with us," Thor said suddenly. Something about Thor's expression told Loki he'd heard the whole thing. Something also made it seem like Thor was concerned for his mental state.

Loki shook his head. "Mother said I must rest. I am fatigued." His stomach growled for emphasis.

"But you are always fatigued," Thor whined. He pulled Loki by the arm. Loki winced, surprised to find it sore. "Between you and Baldur I never have anyone to play with."

"That is a lie," Loki snorted, giving in to Thor's antics. "You are friends with every kid in Asgard."

Thor grinned. "But I never have any _brothers_ to play with," he corrected.

Loki soon found himself in the courtyard with Thor and the usual suspects: Volstaag, Fandral, and Sif. A handful of other children accompanied them. Loki knew not their names nor faces. The royal family's eldest child, Baldur, stared on curiously from the balcony. He was beautiful and expressionless, kept locked away by the All-Mother. To Frigga, Baldur was a doll.

"Try not to let your dreams distract you too much," Thor said, slinging his arm around Loki's neck playfully. So he did overhear, then. "Dreaming of pretty girls is bad for your health, Father says." An _ooh_ echoed around the group.

Loki stared up at Thor. _'Don't you dare say it,'_ Loki warned.

But Thor was immune to his mental shouting. "You see, when we all went to Midgard, Loki fell in love with a human girl."

"I did not '_fall in love_'!" Loki retorted.

"Your ears look red," Thor snickered. "And anyways, she died. But it turns out he's been dreaming of her since! My little brother is so cute," Thor cooed. The group awed and snickered.

"Damn you," Loki hissed angrily.

"Oh?" Thor laughed. "Want to challenge me to a wrestling match, then?"

Loki jumped at Thor. The challenge had begun.

҉

"But it _is_ in your care, correct?" Frigga asked.

"Yes, my Queen." Heimdall answered. "It remains undisturbed until you or Odin decide what to do with it.

Frigga nodded.

"My Queen. . . Do you fear something is awry between it and the boy?"

"I do not fear something is _awry_, no, but I do fear it will change his future drastically. There was nothing in the prophecy about this. I've pored over every note on every slab of stone and every scrap of parchment."

"There are a few major details we've long dealt with that are never mentioned in the Ragnarök," Heimdall said with a hint of amusement. "We are either blindly watching a storm, or fearing that which does not exist. It brings a high level of discomfort to not know that which we must believe."

"I have no doubt that you will be the first to discover the truth, ever-faithful Heimdall," The Queen smiled.

Heimdall nodded. "Have you come to return the book as well?" he asked.

From the folds in her dress, Frigga produced one dusty old book. It was the same from which she'd read a few hundred years ago. "I keep meaning to pass on a few more stories to them, but I never find the time to read to the younger ones. Baldur is, however, rather versed in these. At least one of them will be able to pass on the knowledge."

"Indeed," Heimdall nodded. He took the tome from her and invited her underneath the observatory to the strange dwelling below. These were Heimdall's living quarters, though they seemed much more like a messy museum, or a storage shed. It was dark, dusty; much unlike the gleaming cleanness of the observatory above. One table sat alone in the middle of the cluttered room. Atop it sat a blue cube.

Pulsing.

"I do not remember it pulsing at such a frequency," Frigga said, voice low. "You don't suppose it could have anything to do with. . .?"

Heimdall watched it for a brief moment. "It is communicating with something. As for what it is saying, and to whom. . . I've yet to decode. I am still so far from the truth. I will inform you as soon as possible, my Queen."

҉

In the heart of the deepest cave in all the nine realms, a man trekked in near-total darkness. He was dressed in the finest berserker armor, held the strongest blade on his back. He sat where it was safest to and removed his heavy helmet. The lightest hair, the bluest eyes, bronze skin burned by lightning. He was a true Aesir. He stared out into the blackness of the cave. The silence was deafening. The only thing audible was his breath. He could not hear even his own footfalls as he navigated the cave. His eyes strained in the darkness. A faint blue light reflected on the water below. Was he nearing it? Days ago, at the mouth of the cave, he saw the same blue light and followed it. He truly hoped he was near. He took a deep breath and jumped.

The splash was deafening, a roar escaping a vacuum. His heavy armor pulled him down and down, into the icy water. He did not fight the pull; instead, he let it guide him to the source of the light. The light pulsed brighter and brighter until the Aesir warrior swam only in blue. Before him, a gem of the finest quality pulsed in its golden setting. A sapphire? No, something better. Something rare. He reached for it. His hand enclosed around the gem. With a sharp tug, he and the gem resurfaced.

In his hand, he held a majestic golden staff. The pulsing light flickered and was still, illuminating the cave with its full brilliance. Power itself seemed to flow from the staff into his hands. He felt strong, unbeatable. The most powerful and righteous warrior.

The Aesir smiled proudly.

_12:04_

_1.2.14_


	5. Losing Hope

The longer Loki went without any mention of Siv, the more the All-Mother began to worry. Over the course of two hundred years, and with a bit of help from Heimdall behind the curtain, Frigga and Loki made several visits to Midgard. It soon became apparent to the raven haired prince that his mother intended to help him find his human again. He was unsure about his feelings – should he be happy, that Frigga was going out of her way to bring back his ghost? Or should he be angry that she refused to let that ghost rest easily? In either case, Loki could not hide that he was eager to find Siv, too.

The first girl they found lived on a warring island, an island with strange clothes and strange faces and spoke a strange language. She was small and frail, like Siv. But her skin was not naturally pale – painted white to adhere to the artificial beauty of the culture. She lived and worked as a servant in a brothel; Frigga believed, in spite of her son's visits to the whorehouse, that he remained innocent in body. The human believed wholeheartedly that Loki was going to take her away from her horrid life. The girl murdered her madam and begged Loki to whisk her away to the place he called home. The Aesir prince could not stand the human's desire for self-preservation. In the end, he squeezed the life from her throat and left her on the side of a dirt road. Frigga said nothing to the boy, who seemed at ease with what he'd done.

Frigga tried again. This time they found a boy, face spattered with freckles and his hair red as fire. He, too, lived on an island, much smaller and less angry. (But only slightly.) These people spoke in a language Frigga seemed to remember from a thousand years prior. Celtic, she called it. The boy reminded Loki of Siv in his quirky grin and stance. They bonded and played tricks on the local children. Loki was content with this boy. But he did not have the chance to test this human for Siv; the fire-headed child held a knife to Frigga's throat that evening for the sake of a coin. The All-Mother reacted too quickly, and destroyed the human boy. Loki only smiled.

They clung to their hopes of finding the true Siv. On their third visit to Midgard, they met a princess in an ancient city of artists and intellects and warriors. Loki found himself particularly attracted to this gilded girl. The Aesir stayed for weeks, befriending the mortals and confirming this girl's spirit. It seemed as if they'd finally found the human Loki sought. But their joy was all for naught. The king's enemy came in the night, raped Loki's princess and stole her away. The Aesir were accused of treachery; they disappeared through the Bifrost and did not look back.

The All-Mother grew weary. She could only imagine how her poor son felt. He masked his emotions, but she could feel him screaming inside. At least, she hoped he was. Frigga did not want to be the source of his potential hatred for humanity. During this time, Odin became suspicious of their frequent visits. "I am teaching him," Frigga would only respond. "I am teaching him." But the answer was not enough for the All-Father. Day after day he questioned Loki about their escapes to Midgard. It was enough to drive even Baldur, the calmest of the family, up a wall. Frigga used this opportunity to take Loki back once more.

They went to the land of warm sun and delicious food and festivals every other week. The people danced and made music and lived pleasant lives. It was too cheery for Loki. He hid away in dark museums to play pranks and scare the natives. Several of his pranks nearly resulted in death. The final did. She was thin and pale with blue eyes and dark hair. She bore the most striking resemblance to Siv than any other human Loki had seen prior. She could have been the one, and Loki destroyed her. He sat by her body, her blood on his clothes, as he held her broken figure. His howling and weeping frightened many. Frigga finally came and took him back to Asgard, where he hid in his room for weeks on end without a meal.

The All-Mother, guilt ridden, apologized many times every day. Loki gave no response. Nearly four months passed before he crawled out of hiding. "Let us return," Loki said, "to the place where I found her. To the place where we mourned her." And so they went. Siv's old village became a rather prosperous town, possibly the largest in the land. They stood on the docks where they'd sent her body off in a longboat. These had not been here last time. Hours passed. Frigga turned to leave Loki to his thoughts when she noticed a young girl approaching. Loki seemed unaware of her presence. She set an armful of flowers on the dock. They said nothing to each other. Frigga wondered if she was seeing an apparition. Surely Loki would have made some kind of reaction. The girl looked the same as Siv, right down to the furs. The children parted ways without ever acknowledging the other's existence.

One morning, not long after returning from the final visit to Midgard, Loki dined with his brothers in the great hall. He was surprised to hear not Thor but Baldur inquire about his search for Siv.

"Why are you so eager to find this girl again?"

Baldur was the most sheltered of the three. Frigga kept him under her wing closer than she kept Loki; it was frightening how much love she had for her most beautiful child. His body and his hair was that of the All-Father; his narrow face and his eyes, a strange mix of Aesir blue and chocolate brown, belonged to none in the family. He was uniquely rare. The eldest brother rarely left the palace. Frigga made sure to keep a close eye on him, watched his every move. It was as if she feared for his life, even when playing with other children his age. He never wrestled with Thor, never rode horseback through the wheat fields with Loki, rarely visited the commoner's city with Frigga. Baldur seemed like nothing more than a fairy tale to everyone outside the royal family. His curiosity was hardly to blame.

Loki, however, was not sure how to respond. He wanted to divulge his passion for the human he met so long ago, but he feared Thor's reaction. Loki set his cup down and stared at the table as he tried to speak.

"I met her only briefly. You were not with us, but Thor was." He glanced up quickly at his brother, who nodded in remembrance. "I hadn't meant to wander so far, but I was still searching for Thor. That's when I found her. It was my first time in Midgard. I did not know what to expect. I had always envisioned humans to be like small, skittish animals, always afraid of something, fighting for the last bite of meat. I wanted to meet a human, and I did. She was nothing like how I thought she would be.

"She was so strong, even though she knew she was going to die soon. She hadn't food or shelter. Our father made sure of that when he burned her village to the ground. Maybe it was a human fault of hers that she trusted me so easily. We were fast friends. I haven't felt a bond as close as that since."

"You haven't made other friends because you keep judging them as if they were on Siv's level," Thor interjected. He took notice of Loki's antisocial habits long ago; now he understood where they stemmed. Loki was not pleased by Thor's words. He stood angrily and slammed his open palms against the table. Thor and Baldur were shocked – they had never seen Loki act so outwardly violent.

"I do not judge based on Siv, because no one could compare to her anyway!" Loki snarled. "Thor, all of your friends exist to fight, to win battles or to die in them! You are no better than they. Just a fool eager to fight for the sake of fighting! You know nothing else! If anyone was an animal, I would name you over a human any day!"

Thor narrowed his eyes and stood as well. "At least I do not spend my days with my nose in a hundred, no, a thousand books, searching for a way to find a girl who is centuries dead!" he challenged. "She is gone, Loki! You'll never find her again! You are obsessed! Obsessed with finding her, a girl you knew only as a child, for less than a day! You only had time to know her as she lay dying! What is it that's so important about her that you'll spend years of your life either shut away in a dark room, or scouring Midgard for?"

Loki jolted as though he'd been slapped. "You wouldn't understand! You've never experienced what I felt with Siv!"

Before Loki could continue his argument, Baldur stood as well. He was forgotten amidst the two eternally arguing brothers. His cool demeanor silenced them both.

"Loki," he murmured, looking over his youngest brother. "Explain to me what you found so appealing about this Midgardian girl? I have heard the story countless times from Mother, and nothing changes. You met her in the forest. You brought her back to camp to introduce her to the Asgardian world. She fell sick and died. I do not understand what's missing."

Loki was quiet.

"Did you love her?" Baldur asked.

"Of course not!" Loki shouted angrily. "I could never love a human! While Siv was a brilliant child, I felt close to her only on a kinship level! Closer than I could with either of you!" He cast scathing glares to both Baldur and Thor and stormed off.

It was quiet for a long moment, then Baldur sat to continue his meal.

Thor did not sit. He clenched and unclenched his fists, irritated and guilty. He hadn't meant to drive Loki even further away from him. He worried deeply for his brother's well-being; Loki spent most of his days as far away from the family as he could get. Every time Thor mentioned his growing concern to his mother, she only said it was normal. Thor knew several children; Loki's habits were not normal.

He looked down at Baldur and sighed. "There are some things you shouldn't say, you know."

"On the contrary, I don't know," Baldur replied.

Thor nodded and sat, uneager to finish the rest of his hearty breakfast. "Of course you don't. I cannot see why Mother cares for you as much as she does. I mean, I understand why she cares for you, you are her firstborn. What I mean is I cannot understand why she stifles you so. She shields you so much that I fear something simple might kill you."

Baldur chuckled. "It appears Mother knows her love may do such a thing. Do you know where she is today?" Thor shook his head. "She is going to every stone and tree and blade of wheat and every statue across Asgard to ask them not to hurt me."

Thor laughed in disbelief. "Do you think it will work?"

Baldur shrugged. "The only way to find out is to try and kill me, I suppose. I hear tomorrow she is going to go to the kitchen to ask each and every one of the goblets not to choke me if I drink the wrong way."

The boys laughed and left the hall, leaving their plates at the table for the palace servants to take away. They leisurely walked through the halls. Thor could not suppress a sigh. Loki struck truth when he accused Thor of having rough friends, although it should have been understandable. They were the gods of warriors, after all. He slung an arm over Baldur's shoulder.

"While Father is busy in Nidavellir and Mother is busy with the cups, why don't we play a game?" he said cheerfully.

"The cups are tomorrow," Baldur corrected him. "And what game?"

Thor thought for a moment. "The 'whomever finds Loki first wins' game."

Baldur cringed for Thor's unoriginality, but agreed nonetheless. "When we find him, what do we plan to do? He is going to be mad at you for some time, I believe. Unless you want to force him into a game of seek-and-find, of which I'm sure he'll win, for you'll never find him then."

Thor shoved Baldur slightly and ran off, calling behind him, "Last one's a rotted pig!"

҉

In his room, the raven haired prince slumped at his desk with his head in his arms. A lighted candle flicked lazily and rolled smoke in different patterns. Loki was practicing his ability to read the future. (He wasn't very good, as his thoughts kept wandering back to the events of breakfast.) But suddenly the smoke roiled very quickly, and Loki's stomach churned. In an instant, he knew he had to hide, and fast. He became a gilded book, haphazardly placed and open with the pages against the desk.

Loki was right to hide himself; Thor burst through his bedroom door seconds later without so much as a knock, calling loudly for him. He looked curiously around the room, marveling at the amount of books and oddities Loki had collected for the sake of knowledge. The warrior prince could not believe his eyes. "I always knew you were amazing," Thor breathed in admiration. "Your chamber room is its own library."

Thor turned to leave, but noticed the candle flickering on the desk. Its wax had not yet melted much; Loki must have been here quite recently. Thor decided to put out the candle when he caught sight of the beautiful green book tossed so cruelly upon the desk. It was not cared for like the others. He snuffed the candle and took the beautiful book to the window sill. He had not opened its pages.

Loki was terrified. If Thor saw the pages of the book, he would realize they were blank. Loki did not know how he was going to fill them with believable information with such a short amount of time. Thor was dull, but he wasn't dumb. In that moment, Loki immediately knew what to do.

With the first page, Loki made himself a charcoal drawing of a snow covered forest. With the next, a smoking campfire. He couldn't resist placing a drawing of his young Siv on the third page, hair in her face as if the wind were blowing. Thor stared at the picture for a long time. Loki feared his concentration would break and the image would flicker.

"She's beautiful."

Loki would have gasped had he not been a book.

"She's beautiful," Thor repeated. "Does he really see her this way?" The pain on his face and in his voice was real. "I said awful things to him. I need to apologize." Thor almost put the book down, but something urged him to flip to the next page.

Loki quickly wrote himself a journal entry describing what he could not say earlier.

"She was beautiful. I did love her. I loved her more deeply than I realized at the time. But it was not a romantic love, nor is it now, as I write. I loved her as a sister, as a friend, as I love Thor and Baldur and Mother and Father. I wished so deeply that she was my kin, or that I could have been smart enough to realize that she was dangerously ill when I first met her. Siv, for some reason, was everything to me. I wish I could understand why. Mother and I travelled to Midgard so many times. I was eager to find Siv once more. I thought for sure I would. But each child we found was not she. They lived in different worlds, different times, had different experiences that made the Siv inside no longer Siv.

"Even now I secretly hope to find her again. I want to bring her back to Asgard so she can see the things I wanted to show her centuries ago. I want her to live and to be happy, and I want to watch it happen. But I cannot. I know now that she is dead, and I can never return to the past. I was a foolish child. I was greedy. I still want to keep Siv all to myself.

"Mother tried so many times to find her for me. In the end, it just wasn't meant to be. There is nothing anyone can tell me now. I have given up hope. Or, perhaps I haven't. Humans are fickle, but so am I. Maybe I'll be brave enough to hunt for her again. Maybe I just haven't found the right body. I just want her to know how I feel.

"I want to protect her, like Thor tries to do for me."

Baldur entered Loki's room as Thor finished reading. He quickly set the book on the sill and stood, smiling at his elder brother. "He is not here," he said. "We have to keep looking."

"Are you crying?" Baldur teased as Thor brushed past him.

The door closed and Loki was left to himself. He sat as a book for hours, returning to his normal form only as the sun began to set. "How unfortunate for you, brother," Loki whispered, unable to control the tears that streamed down his face. "How unfortunate for you that you read a lie."

'_You can never protect me.'_

'_I will only see her again in dreams.'_

҉

"Who is this, Mother?" Thor asked, tugging on her hand.

"If you would look at the name plate," Loki grunted under his breath. Baldur chuckled quietly beside him.

Frigga stared at the golden statue for some time. Many expressions flashed across her face. It was hard to tell what she thought about the sainted statue.

"There once was a great warrior. He wore the finest berserker armor, held the strongest blade on his back. The lightest hair, the bluest eyes, bronze skin burned by lightning. He was a true Aesir. In the depths of the deepest cave, he discovered a staff of immeasurable power. It gave him control over many people, many minds. He could have used it to destroy many worlds. But he did not. He knew the danger of such a powerful weapon. In fact, the staff took control of even him. At the cost of his own mind, he destroyed the staff to save the nine realms. He hid the pieces across the universe. . ."

҉

The wind was bitter. The sky, angry. The All-Father trekked silently through the snow, searching for a place to hide his parcel. It was wrapped tightly in cloth to hide its strange blue glow. He scanned his surroundings. Something felt familiar about this place. It was lonely, despite the city growing around it. The humans were tucked away in their homes, settling down for the vicious oncoming storm. Odin then understood why it was so familiar – this was the place they laid that human to rest. The All-Father flashed an empty smile, looking down at his parcel.

"You seem to keep coming back to this place," he murmured. "In one form or another."

He found it a hiding spot and let it rest.

_23:36_

_4.1.14_


	6. Bilgesnipes

"Loki, put your book down! I have a bet to make with you!" Thor said rather loudly as he ran past the library. Loki groaned, but complied, sulking out of his hide-away.

"Another one? You lost the last three. Are you going to keep losing until by some miracle you win?" Loki said smugly. Thor whirled on his heel, jabbing his younger brother in the nose. "What was that for?" he yelped, stepping back to protect from further abuse to his face.

"I am going to win this one," Thor boasted. "I will, and I can prove it."

"How so?" Loki hardly believed him.

"A bilgesnipe."

Loki pulled at Thor's arm, eyes wide. It had little effect on the jubilant god. "'A bilgesnipe'?" he repeated, continuing to pull at his arm. "A _bilgesnipe_, really, Thor? You may be strong but you're hardly strong enough to take down a full grown beast! Much less am I, for that matter!"

Thor stopped, swinging a beefy arm around Loki's neck. He smirked smugly. "What, afraid you'll be eaten?" he teased.

"Yes, actually!"

҉

Loki soon found himself standing in the middle of a large, open marsh. It was humid for this time of year, and the sweat dripped from his brow. His trousers and boots were soaked with the cool, murky water. "Disgusting," he grimaced, fanning himself. Thor laughed.

"You would feel much better if you took your shirt off, you know," Thor said, swinging his arms his over his head. Loki knew exactly what he was doing.

"No, thank you," he muttered, eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest. If Thor really wanted Loki to remove his shirt, he would have to do it by force.

"Tis not my fault you are not pleased with your form, tiny brother. Why don't you try some strength building exercises? I'm sure you could use some of those books of yours as weights!"

Thor earned a full face of muddy water. He laughed, shaking the grime out of his wet hair. He clapped his hands and came closer to Loki.

"Alright, enough playing. There is a family of bilgesnipes –"

"A family! You coaxed me out with the threat of danger, but this is an act of murder! How much do you hate me, brother?" Loki exclaimed.

"– living between this marsh and the east river."

"The wheat fields are beyond the east river," Loki realized. "If they pass the river, the farmers and the crops will be destroyed."

"Exactly," Thor nodded. "Father is not here, so he cannot hunt. But, between my strength and your magic, I have no doubt we can take them down." He grinned widely.

"How big is this family? Thor, I really do not think this is one of your brightest ideas."

"We are going to rule Asgard together, aren't we?" Thor interjected. Loki was silent. "It is a nasty job, but we can do it. I have faith in you. And to prove my faith here's the bet: If you can kill more bilgesnipes than I, I win. If I kill more, it's your win."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "I do not see how this is particularly fair. One profits from the other's victory? If I wanted to win, I would just have to sit back and let you take care of the mess. But if I do, the beasts will likely come after me. And without someone to help you, you'll surely die."

Thor slapped Loki on the shoulder and laughed. "Then don't sit back!"

The grass rustled. The princes could feel the water trembling around their legs. They crouched instinctively, Loki summoning his magic while Thor readied his fists to grab. In an instant, the beast jumped from the water, snarling loudly. The challenge had begun.

Thor pulled the young bilgesnipe by the horns and threw it to the ground. The body of the beast was as long as Thor was tall, not including its sizeable tail. The golden haired prince wrestled with it for a time, grunting and struggling to keep the creature from wailing. Its cry could be heard up to six acres away; no doubt its family was already on the rescue.

As Thor strangled the life from the first beast, a second happened upon Loki. The raven haired prince hardly had time to react. The particularly fat bilgesnipe leapt, slamming him into the marsh face first. It was going to suffocate him. He could not move his hands to set the creature ablaze with his magic fire. Loki quickly transformed into a viper, wriggled out from underneath the tremendous creature, and bit the first thing he could reach. The crunch of the scales echoed through his skull; it was sickening. The bilgesnipe reared and flung Loki from its clawed hand. For a glorious moment, he sailed through the air like a loosed arrow.

His flight was cut short – Thor grabbed him out of the air as if Loki was simply a tossed ball. He held his poor snake brother by the throat, forcing Loki's mouth open. He spat venom in anger.

The released poison splashed across the face of yet another bilgesnipe. It cried loudly and scurried back, diving again and again into the water to wash off the venom. It was no use. Loki's poison travelled quickly; in a few moments, both bilgesnipes affected by his poison would die. They fell dead in the marsh. Thor released his wriggling brother.

"I have never felt so humiliated in my life," Loki growled as he transformed, spitting out remnants of muddy water and poison. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and hunched over himself. The raven haired prince was sorely out of shape.

Thor let out a short laugh and slapped his brother on the back. "What, from my ingenious idea? Or from your nice romp with that lady bilgesnipe? I'm sure she fancied you."

Loki shoved him down into the marsh.

"I _am_ winning, you know!" Thor chuckled, spitting out a mouthful of dirty water. "I'd watch yourself if I were you!"

They wrestled for a bit, Loki losing to his brother's strength almost immediately.

"Remove your impossibly heavy posterior from my lungs, you blundering oaf! I can't breathe!"

"What was that, brother? I couldn't hear you. You sound muffled, try to speak more clearly," Thor laughed. It was rare that Loki initiated the roughhousing unprovoked. He was proud. But Loki was becoming annoyed, and an angry brother was no fun to play with. Thor stood and pulled Loki to his feet. "I'm surprised not more came. Why don't we check the river banks, and the fields?"

Loki nodded. They walked in silence.

Upon reaching the river, Loki immediately sank into the clean water.

"What are you doing?" Thor said quickly, looking for signs of beasts.

"Cleaning myself, obviously. You should try it sometime, you'll stink less."

Thor scoffed and kept to the riverbank, eyes peeled for trouble. "I'm going to search over in the fields. If I find anything, you'll know." Loki hummed in response and ducked his head under the water. It was crisp, and cool, as river water often was. Loki could see everything below the surface. It was beautiful. He swam to the center of the river and sat there, watching the tiny fish underneath him. He released the oxygen in his lungs and settled on the floor, amongst the weeds and rocks. This was peace. One. Two. Six minutes passed. His vision flashed white behind his eyelids. Nine. Eleven. No pulse. In the white, he saw a shadow. Loki grinned. How long had it been since she spoke to him? She often danced in his dreams just out of reach. Siv stamped her foot at him.

"Do not be so eager to die just to see me!" she mouthed playfully.

'_How could I not be?'_ he asked her. _'Well over half a millennium since I saw your last breath.'_

Twelve minutes. Siv faded away. It was time to breathe. He began to swim to the surface. The fish around him, who had been so content to have Loki in their presence, suddenly scattered. Loki frowned and was still. Did he frighten them? Or was it. . . Loki turned around slowly.

A bilgesnipe, larger than any of the creatures they had seen earlier, was gaining speed toward the prince. It was a fully grown adult female. Loki remembered a chapter he'd read once on bilgesnipes. The female was larger and more deadly than the male. Her teeth were often rotted and black, with bits of meat decaying in them. Those, too, were more deadly than the male. The fathers were fierce about protecting their territory; the mothers protected her young with her life. Loki had wondered where the mother was. She was here, hunting in the river. And she was angry.

By the time Loki realized he still needed to breathe, the mother bilgesnipe was already upon him. Time seemed to stop as she opened her vicious mouth to greet him. He could have counted every single one of those sharp, nasty teeth.

His fist pulsed with blue magic. The bilgesnipe snapped.

The river turned red.

҉

The more distance Thor set between himself and the river, the more uneasy he felt. Of course he had faith that his brother could hold his own if his life depended on it. But Thor also knew that he had never actually witnessed Loki protect himself in the heat of the moment. For all he knew, Loki might panic and freeze up. But the chances of that were slim. They were the gods of warriors, after all. Loki could handle himself.

The wheat was tall. It left tiny cuts all across Thor's broad chest as he hunted for another bilgesnipe. The wind whispered eerily across the fields. He felt cold. Not wet cold, but as if he were sensing something terrible. He looked back towards the east river. He could still see Loki bathing in the lake. Thor shook his head and continued through the field.

There was nothing.

Absolutely.

Nothing.

The wind steadily increased. The wheat stalks rustled loudly. Too loudly. Thor turned, but it was too late. The father bilgesnipe struck from below, grabbing Thor by the ankle. The pain was incredible. He yelped, vision flashing hot white for a moment. The beast let out a terrible yowl and clambered on top of the golden haired prince. It aimed to bite, to tear Thor's face clean off. As the monster's terrible mouth came down upon him, Thor aimed a mighty fist down the gullet of the beast. It gagged, choked, and released the contents of its stomach.

"Ugh!" Thor grunted. It was a horrible smell. Thankfully, he'd not received a full face of it. His fist was still down the monster's throat; if it was smart, it would have swallowed Thor's arm. But it wasn't, and was terrified of the man who now held a strong grip on the back of its tongue.

They were at a standstill for a few tense seconds. The mighty Thor could not manage much of a fight with a torn ankle. The beast dared not move, lest its throat be ripped out. Slowly, slowly, Thor released his hold. The two stared each other down as they backed away.

But the bilgesnipe was not willing to give up so easily. It rushed for the wounded prince again, this time with its mouth closed. Thor could not run, but he could punch. He landed an incredible blow to the underside of the creature's jaw. An audible crack was heard; the creature flew back. Its jaw was broken. Blood oozed from the creature's mouth and the shattered tips of bones poked out from underneath its scaly jowl. It would not die immediately, but it would spend the next few hours of its life in anguish. The great and terrible creature whimpered and laid at Thor's feet as if begging to be put out of its misery. He graciously complied.

If it was left in the fields, the carcass would poison the wheat. Thor picked up the limp body by the tail and dragged it away with some difficulty. He could leave it on the banks of the east river for other creatures to feed upon. There, it would be safe to decompose. It was much harder to move the carcass with his bum ankle. Nightmarish pain shot through his leg with each step. He did not know if bilgesnipes were poisonous, but its jagged teeth were rotted and its breath was worse.

It was not far to the riverbank. Thor gratefully dropped the dead beast and limped towards the water. "Loki!" he called. No response. His stomach settled far lower than he hoped.

As he drew nearer, he could see his beloved brother hovering under the water. Something swam toward him at an incredible rate.

"Loki, move!" Thor shouted, terrified.

But Loki just sat there, staring the beast in the face. It had the boy in its teeth before Thor could blink. He jumped, clearing the distance between he and the center of the river with ease, and came down upon the mother beast's head with his elbow. Loki breached the surface, gasping for air. It ripped through the flesh of his shoulder. Deep red blood seeped through the water.

The bilgesnipe thrashed about. Thor had her by the back of her neck, but she was much larger and much stronger than he. "Now, Loki!" he shouted as he struggled to keep his head above the water. "Strike it now!"

The blue fire Loki conjured in his palms became a deadly weapon. He struck once, twice, four times into the chest of the beast. Each strike burned the scaly flesh, flayed it away like a knife. He did not halt even when the ribcage was clearly visible. The beast had long stopped writhing. It bled out into the water.

"Loki!" Thor gasped, grabbing for him.

But Loki was unreachable. He continued his barrage even as the beast sunk.

"_BROTHER!_"

Loki shuddered heavily, magic dying. He retched, but his stomach was already empty. He gagged, coughed. Thor picked him up from the current by the collar of his tunic and they swam their way to the bank.

They flopped onto the rocks like fish, gasping and sputtering. Thor hissed as he pulled his ankle from the water. It bled on all sides, boot and flesh ripped open. He removed his shoe and began to bandage it with his discarded shirt as best he could.

"No," Loki wheezed. "No, you won't make it back if you just bandage it. Bilgesnipe saliva is filled with lethal bacteria. You'll be dead before dark."

He crouched and held his hand over Thor's torn ankle. Golden threads wriggled like worms over Thor's skin, stitching it back in place. Thor snarled loudly in pain. "You could have given me a warning!" he growled, examining the work. It seemed to be fully healed, without scars or pain. He was thankful for his brother's magic.

"Shut it," Loki retorted as he dropped his head. He had hardly enough magic to heal himself now. The threads stitched his shoulder slowly, dying out before the job was done. He blew his breath over it, wincing in pain. "That'll do for now," he whispered to himself. Loki struggled to pick up his head to keep a steady glare at his brother.

"So much for your stupid bet. I still won."

Thor shook his head. "No. No, I won. The rules were, if you kill more, I win."

Loki frowned for a moment. It was true. "By far the stupidest bet I've ever taken part in," he growled.

Thor flashed him a tired grin. "So by winning, I get to decide one thing."

"It wasn't just for bragging rights?"

"Next time you go to find Siv, I am coming with you."

Loki stood quickly. "I will not be going back to find her, Thor. She's gone. You proved that point to me not long ago." His words were dangerously sharp. "And if not you, then Mother certainly sealed that fate for me."

Thor shook his head, standing through the power of adrenaline. "You will, I know you will. Even if it's to prove to yourself that she does not exist anymore, you will go back."

"I do not need any more proof," Loki hissed. He turned to walk back to the palace.

"You're not leaving me here," Thor called after him. He grabbed Loki by the arm and pulled himself up. Loki had trouble supporting Thor's weight.

҉

That night, Odin returned from Vanaheim. He called for a feast in celebration. Amidst the festivities, Thor boasted about his adventure with Loki and the bilgesnipes.

"As you all know, I am quite fond of taking up bets with my brothers," Thor said, swinging his arms wide as he told his story. Everyone gave a resounding aye.

"Well, today, I finally won through backward logic." There was an echo of laughter. Loki smiled, but was hardly amused.

"Today, Loki and I discovered a family of bilgesnipes about to take over the wheat fields. Father was gone, so I decided we would take care of it ourselves." The laughter became chuckles of disbelief.

"The first one snuck up on me like a feline. I wrestled it to the bottom of the marsh and killed it. The second was fat and round, as if it had eaten more than its share of food. It slammed Loki into the ground. He turned into a snake and bit the damned creature, right on the hand! But there was a third coming up to my right, so I grabbed Loki while he was still in snake form, and he spat venom right into its eyes! It was incredible, you should have seen it!

"We split up to find the parents. This is where the bet comes in, you see – I told my brother that if he killed more beasts than I, then I would win. You can see how this story will end, now! I'll tell about the father first. Loki and the mother is so incredible, I will save the best for last.

"I found the father in the wheat fields. He was silent, and smart. He used the cover of the wheat and the wind to mask his movements. He grabbed me by the ankle and dragged me down. I thought I was done for when he reared to take my head, but I wasn't going down without a fight! I punched right down the beast's throat, grabbed him by the back of his tongue! He should have taken the opportunity to bite my arm off, but he didn't. We separated, and I was going to let it live, but it reared up to strike me a second time! I punched straight through his bottom jaw, and he wallowed at my feet, begging me to finish the job. I dragged the dead thing out of the fields and left him on the marsh side bank."

The further Thor delved into the story, the hotter Loki burned with anger. Odin was not smiling at him, hardly paying him any attention. It seemed as if he glazed over with muted boredom each time his name was mentioned, and only laughed or responded when Thor talked about himself. No matter how Thor tried to help the All-Father recognize his third son, it would not happen.

"As I came back, I saw Loki fighting in the water with the mother bilgesnipe. She was a nasty creature, larger than anything I've ever seen. Loki waited for her to be close enough to strike – chomped down on his shoulder! But it gave him a clear opening to the wretched thing's chest, where he struck with his magic, and ripped the beast from throat to stomach. It was truly amazing! But as we all know, bilgesnipe bites are fatal. Loki conjured up enough healing magic to save us, but he healed me before himself; he ran out of magic and now has a battle scar to prove how well he fought today."

The hall collectively turned its attention to Loki. He indeed had a scar on his left shoulder. He earned a few pats on the back, a cheer or two, and an extra round of mead. He nodded and politely accepted, but his anger was not soothed. The silence was overpowering.

"Well," said Odin, finally, "It is a good thing your mother has retired to her bed early. If she knew of this, she would have your heads faster than those bilgesnipes!" The hall laughed and cheered, and the warriors continued on with their celebration. Thor sat slowly, surprised that his story had not earned more applause. Loki could stand it no longer, and retired for the rest of the night.

When Thor stood to follow, Odin pulled him aside. "I understand that you are growing boys and are eager to have your stories told, but you mustn't tell lies. Perhaps maybe you could have taken on an adult bilgesnipe, but your brother would be dead. Unless you can prove to me that it was true, I must ask you to refrain from boasting your strength in such a way."

Thor narrowed his eyes. "It _was _true. I can prove my own, as I left it on the bank. But Loki fought the mother in the water. Her carcass has likely washed away."

Odin smiled. "Isn't that a shame?'

Thor removed himself from his father's grip and stomped irritably to his chambers.

_0:02_

_6.1.14_


	7. Enter Richter

The sun rose the next morning much earlier than Loki anticipated. He slept not a wink. The anger broiled in his stomach long into the night; by dawn, he was finally exhausted enough to rest, but he could not. He crawled out of bed and rubbed his face. He already knew the day was not going to end well.

He bathed early. The stench of bilgesnipe blood hadn't left his nose, despite how hard he scrubbed the evening before. The floor stones were cold, but hot steam fogged the ceiling and mirrors. Loki quietly undressed and slipped in, enjoying the loneliness of the large, empty bath hall. His wound stung as he lathered with soap; the tissue was infected and swollen. He hissed angrily, willing his magic to finish patching the wound. The wound left scars like stretch marks across his shoulder; Loki mused that it would be there for the rest of his life.

He finished bathing and sat in the mineral-pool for some time. It was murky, but not unclean. He transformed into a salmon and swam around the center of the bath, reliving yesterday's events. The teeth. The flash of blood – his blood. The flurry of bubbles as Thor rammed his elbow into the skull of the creature. The fish trembled and was still, hiding himself amidst the mineral clouds in the water. It was some time before Loki reverted to his natural body. He shook his wet head and laughed at himself. Here he was, a few hundred years shy of being a grown man, and he cowered in the middle of a giant stone pool. For fear of bilgesnipes, no less.

And Siv. Sweet Siv. Finally, he'd seen her face once more. Her smile. Oh, how Loki wished she'd stayed long enough for a conversation. Even a few sentences would have been nice. Perhaps a kiss goodbye. _'Well, maybe not that.'_

What surprised the prince was the lack of noise. Thor was an early riser; surely he would have come looking for Loki by now. He removed himself from the bath, dried off, and dressed. Perhaps Thor understood why Loki was in no mood to play today, especially after that embarrassing spectacle in the hall. Loki appreciated his elder brother's attempt to cast a good eye toward him, but it did little more than make it painfully obvious. Odin would not see him as a worthy son if he continued to wield his fists with magic and not strength. He could never have the weak trickster Loki as the ruler of Asgard. It would be Baldur or Thor.

"Always Thor," he hissed to himself.

҉

By noon, Loki had neither seen nor heard a word from Thor. He was beginning to feel very unnerved. The youngest brother sought out Baldur, who remained in his room most days.

"I've come to visit you in your cell," Loki mockingly said from the doorway.

Baldur offered him a pleasant smile and invited him in. "Tis not just a cell, the entire room is a prison. I am trapped until Mother is confident enough to let me leave. Ridiculous, I say. But I am sure it will have benefits in the future." He chuckled, although his strange eyes flashed with annoyance. He was the oldest, but was by far the most estranged. Deep in his heart, Baldur feared the throne would be given to Thor because of the All-Mother's nervous precautions.

"Have you seen Thor today?" Loki asked, looking around the room.

Baldur remained quiet for a few moments. "I've not. I saw his plate on the table at breakfast, but he was long gone when I sat down. Perhaps, ask Heimdall."

Loki nodded and turned to leave.

"Did you really kill a mother bilgesnipe?" Baldur asked quickly.

"I did," he responded quietly. "But it's no matter. No one believed it anyway, even from Thor's mouth. When it comes to me, everyone acts like I'm some sort of cursed object."

"I would rather be a cursed object than holy," Baldur replied. "I am truly jealous of you."

Loki gave no response.

"I wonder how those bilgesnipes made it all the way to the wheat fields," Baldur continued. "Their territory is on the complete opposite side of Asgard." He chuckled to himself and then said, "I wonder if they came through the sewers."

Loki cringed.

҉

Asgard was bathed in the evening glow before Loki finally made his way across the great bridge to Heimdall's observatory. He dismounted from his horse and stepped inside lightly.

"Your brother was here earlier," Heimdall said.

"Do you know where he is now?" he asked.

Heimdall might have smiled. Loki narrowed his eyes.

"In his sincerest voice, he asked me to find your Siv in the current world. I sent him to a Germanic palace of the Midgardians, left in the hands of two brothers. There, your Siv awaits," the overseer replied. He almost seemed amused. Grimly amused.

Loki growled.

"If you wish to join Thor, I must warn you – the realm of the humans has advanced in its timeline more rapidly than our own. They call it the year 1702. Thor has been in Midgard for two months, whereas in Asgard, he has been missing since dawn. He's made himself quite happy amidst the humans."

"Take me to him," Loki hissed.

"Politeness would not harm you," Heimdall growled. He was met with a fierce glare. Heimdall said nothing more and opened the Bifrost.

Loki did not bother to hide his image. He encased himself in a whirlwind of green fire, storming up the castle steps. The guards shouted in terror and fell to their knees, howling prayers to their god. Loki smirked and threw open the heavy oak doors. They slammed into brick walls. The hall cried as well; Loki swelled and became a ghoulish fire-monster, crawling up the walls and over the lap of every guest. Burning napkins were tossed in fear. Loki delighted in hearing their screams of fright.

"You humans call this a castle?" he roared. "This pathetic building is hardly the size of a flat in the commoner's city outside the Asgardian palace!"

He then became a great hawk, wings of black smoke and eyes of emerald fire. He swooped, knocked over a few goblets as he grazed the table, and alighted on the shoulder of one very out-of-place Thor.

"Thank you _ever so much_ for coming here without me," Loki snarled.

Thor laughed and stood, motioning to the dining hall. "I knew you would follow me here," he said proudly, standing. "Everyone! Allow me to introduce my younger brother, Loki of Asgard!"

There was a collective gasp from the great table and a roaring applause. Loki gripped Thor's shoulder in his talons, unsure of how to respond to the sudden praise.

"Well done! Marvelous! Incredible show of talent! Such magic! Much skill!" came the exclamations of a prince appearing no older than Loki. The raven haired prince smirked. He was close to seven hundred years old; compared to these mortals, he looked not a day over seventeen. The loud human prince jumped from his chair and ran to Thor's side – gave a quick bow, out of respect for the godly princes – and held his hands out to greet the newcomer.

Loki reared his hawk head and cast a scathing look down the bridge of his beak. "I do not greet humans as kindly as my idiot brother," Loki crowed.

Thor gave a surprised laugh. "This is not how you acted with your last visits to Midgard, is it? Come now, brother, don't be shy. This is the one you were looking for. Say hello."

Loki took to the air once more. As the burning wings fell in front of the body, Loki appeared as his natural self. He blew a bit of emerald fire out of the side of his mouth for show. The human in front of him gave a delighted gasp and furiously shook his hand.

"It is a pleasure, truly a pleasure to meet the great Loki of Asgard!" he said, tumbling over his words. "My name is Richter. I rule this kingdom with my brother. Neither of us have a wife to make us 'king', so we split the duty equally. My elder brother is Roderich. He and Thor get along quite well, like brothers. I hope we, too, can become as close." He smiled brightly and waited for a reply.

Loki continued to glare at this human prince for some time. He was short and scrawny, like all of Siv's host bodies seemed to have been. And his eyes were blue, incredibly blue, and his skin as fair as the child Siv's body. But his hair was blond. Blond enough that if he had not been a teenaged mortal, Loki would have assumed the mop of hair belonged to a true Aesir in his last centuries. And the personality was wrong. Richter was too joyous, too loud to be Siv. Something about this eager boy struck Loki as odd. He saw the sharpness in Richter's eyes, the coldness. They were not cold like snow, as Siv's were. They were cold like greed and murder. Loki grinned devilishly.

"I shall hope to be acquainted with you soon. Go on, finish your meal. I must speak with my brother privately," Loki finally responded, shooing Richter away.

He grabbed Thor by the ear and dragged him out of the hall. Thor winced and hissed, before finally slapping Loki's hand away. "You do not have to be so rough, brother, I will follow you if you ask of me."

"If I hadn't, you would not understand the severity of my anger," Loki hissed.

"I did not see anger as you put on that show, Loki," Thor retorted. "You seemed thrilled to watch them squirm."

They stared each other down, tension thickening between the two.

"I want you to realize that I want to help you find this girl. This girl that you have been searching for literally your entire life."

"I've not been –"

"You have! Loki, do not lie to yourself, you have! Ever since we came back to Asgard, the morning she died! We would have left her in the ice had it not been for you, begging, _begging_ Mother and Father to send her out in a longboat! We held a funeral service for a girl you hardly even knew! I don't know why you were so adamant to find her as you were growing up. If you've truly put the idea of Siv to rest, then at least make merry with these humans. You have been to Midgard more times than I; I would like to at least make a few friends and learn about the humans before we go back home."

And then Thor left to return to the evening feast.

Loki was shown to the library by a servant of the castle, and he spent the night seething over a Christian Bible by candlelight.

҉

"It is not she, Thor."

Thor shook his head and rolled his eyes. "If it is not she, then are you sure you are not searching for something you made up in your mind? To replace what you lost?" he whispered quietly.

Loki narrowed his eyes. He had half a mind to step on Thor's foot, but he doubted his brother would feel it. "I know what Siv is. That manic mongrel is not Siv. You and Heimdall are wrong. That is all there is left to the story, you are wrong. Some people are just uneager to let the unhappy ending write itself."

"I think you are clouding your own vision out of fear, Loki," Thor said, shrugging.

"Do not tell me what I am thinking!" Loki hissed.

"Are you watching or are you arguing?" came the call of a masked Richter. He and his brother Roderich practiced their fencing in the large open court below. He removed his fencing mask and stared up at the two Asgardians. Roderich also removed his mask and looked up quietly.

"How do you know we are arguing?" Thor chuckled, elbowing his brother playfully. "How do you know this is not friendly banter?"

"It does not appear to be friendly to me," Richter replied smugly.

Loki nodded in contempt. "At least he and I can agree on something." He pulled himself over the guard rail. Thor reached for his coat quickly but it was too late. Loki jumped from the third story balcony and landed elegantly on the court below.

"How?" Richter gasped, astonished.

"Yes, how?" Thor echoed, looking quickly from his brother to the rail. He shrugged and jumped as well. His landing was not so graceful. He groaned heavily, rubbing the back of his head. Loki smirked.

"Your style of sparring is beautiful," Loki smiled. "Perhaps it is meant only for court enjoyment, but the form is hardly useful on the battlefield."

"_You_ are going to teach battle techniques?" Thor scoffed. "I'd like to see this."

"Shut up, Thor," Loki said brightly. He stepped in front of Richter, who donned his mask once again. "Tell me, do you fear me?" the raven haired prince asked kindly. He refused the armor Roderich offered him.

Richter scoffed. "I admire you, truly, but fear? _Hardly_. I could never fear you. Your spectacle last night was awe-inspiring, though," he nodded.

Loki chuckled. "Then do not fear me. But I will not resist harming you," he warned. "I will not aim to kill, but I will loose a few drops of your blood from underneath that pale skin of yours."

Richter smirked widely. "I'd like to see you try."

As Loki and Richter took over the fencing court, Thor and Roderich retired to the boundaries to watch. From the second it started, the winner was determined in the minds of the witnesses. With every strike Richter made, Loki parried and retaliated. By the fifth strike, the mask was knocked from the German prince's face. By the eighth, his face bled from shallow cuts. The eleventh almost landed Richter with a dagger in his eye.

They stepped away, Richter panting heavily and staring at Loki with awe.

"Your brother is an impressive fighter," Roderich nodded.

"He is not usually so eager to amaze," Thor commented, thumb to his chin. "He must be feeling more mischievous than usual. He was always one for flashy tricks."

"Tell me, how do you create those images of yourself? Multiple copies? Mirrors? These cuts, this blood, those were real daggers! But your doubles are mere clouds of golden smoke. Brilliant, truly brilliant work, my friend." Richter excitedly shook hands with his new idol. Loki only smiled. He was pleased to have this boy so eager to follow him around. It felt like power.

It _was_ power.

"All a good show, my friend. Go, finish your match with your brother. I would like to speak with you later. Is there a place that we may do so privately?" he asked, keeping his voice down.

Richter nodded quickly. "Yes, yes, of course. Will my chambers suffice?" Loki nodded. "Very well. Have a servant escort you."

Loki bowed graciously and returned to Thor's side. They said nothing. Loki smirked up at his brother; his brother stared down uneasily. There was a dangerous glimmer behind Loki's eyelids, and Thor did not like it. This source of happiness, showiness, eagerness was uncharacteristic of Loki unless he was about to pull a devilish trick. Loki brushed shoulders with his brother cockily and disappeared inside the castle. Thor feared his search to help find Siv was going to be the undoing of his precious brother.

҉

"Loki, are you here?" Richter called to his dark bed chambers. There was no answer. A faint flicker of candlelight seeped underneath a door. Richter set down his candelabrum and slowly pushed it open. On the other side of the door lay his private water closet. A giant stone washtub was full, yet devoid of a body. He looked behind him. Silence.

"Are you playing a trick?" he said cautiously to the shadows, though a smile tugged at the corners of his thin lips.

"A trick? '_Hardly_'."

Water splashed. Richter turned to see a very voluptuous and beautiful lady in his washtub. A naked lady. He gasped sharply and covered his face. "Forgive me, Miss, I did not know you were there, I do not mean to sin – Wait, what are you doing in my chambers? Remove yourself!"

She gave a devious laugh and stood. Her long, black hair fell over her body, covering only the parts of most importance. "Remove myself?" she murmured seductively. "And relocate where? Your bed, perhaps?" She moved closer and closer until she stood a hairsbreadth away from Richter's face. He burned red, feeling her hot breath against his neck. He kept his eyes shut tight. He had no idea how to act around women. Much less attractive naked ones that flirted.

But then her presence simply vanished. Richter opened his eyes slowly. He peered into the bath; there was no water. He patted the inside of the stone bowl and found it dry as a bone. Loki smirked from atop the counter.

"Tell me, Richter, how do you decide what is real and what is a lie?" he asked, examining his nails for dirt.

Richter pointed at Loki, mouth gaping. "That was you?" he squeaked.

Loki swept a hand at his torso, presenting himself. "The one and only."

Richter was dumbfounded for a long moment, running his hand though his hair. "But you were a _woman_! I saw all the bits – I mean, I saw where they were supposed to be, I swear I did not look, they just happened to be under water and I assumed," he stumbled. He was quiet for another long moment.

Loki still waited for an answer.

"I suppose, that would be. . . seeing with my own eyes? But your tricks are far more clever and advanced than anything I've seen before. No wonder you are a god. But, I also know what the Bible tells me, that all gods are but frauds amongst the one true God. So the book tells me what lies are. But I also know there are things that lie in my heart which cannot be discovered as truth or deceit. Tis a strange thing. As for how I decide, I suppose. . ." The human paused.

"You believe what you want to," Loki finished. Richter gave a sheepish nod. "So tell me, friend. How can you decide which of your brother's words are truth, and which are lies?"

Richter stepped back, frowning. "Are you accusing my brother of lying to me?" he said slowly. "You, a man known for your lies, who has only been in the company of this house for a day?"

Loki nodded solemnly. "Indeed, but does that not make for the best lie detector? One who knows lies backward and forward? One who has witnessed the many faces of a liar, and has studied how they react to hide it? I cannot make you believe that which you do not want to believe, but allow me to warn you.

"You and your brother grew up together. Same house, same mother and father. The only thing that separated you was age. As you grew older, you swore to each other that you not marry, unless the brides were sisters. You would never be alone in an adventure. But you both knew that Father stood by his decision – only one brother could ascend to the throne. So, when Father died, dear sweet Roderich promised you that you would rule your kingdom together. There would be no high counsel or most trusted advisor. There were to be two kings ruling together for the sake of one kingdom. But your brother knew in his heart that he could not break tradition to allow such a strange and unusual thing to happen. So he continued to lead you on, to let you keep believing that there would be room for two upon the throne. But he intends to take position of the most trusted and most authoritative king, and you, just king-in-name. A lousy little brother that wants his fair share of the pudding. He is the eldest; it is his duty to take his rightful place as king. The only way for the precious younger brother to have total control would be to. . .well."

"Tell me!" Richter said urgently.

"No, no, I cannot have you running around with fool's thoughts. You must believe only what you trust is right. This is all hypothetical, of course." Loki held his hands up as a sign of peace.

Richter shook his head bitterly. "No. I believe you, friend." He paused. "For a long time now, I have known. Roderich would never let me hold power over him. He is the eldest. That is his responsibility. Cut a path for his predecessors' memory and future lineage. I am merely a placeholder. That is why children are born. To take the place of your elder brother lest something happen to him. The only way I could become a true king is if Roderich dies."

Richter hesitated and slowly looked up at Loki.

Loki shook his head furiously. "No, whatever it is you are thinking, stop it! I know that look, I have seen it before in others. It is the look of someone who is about to pull off something incredibly stupid."

"It's the only way," Richter repeated, shrugging. "I did not say I was actually going to do it. Calm down, Loki," Richter said, giving a loose and nervous laugh.

The Asgardian prince breathed a sigh of relief and placed a hand over his heart. "Good," he said, closing his eyes. "I have seen none don that look without regretting their actions later."

Richter shook his head and smiled. "He is my brother. I would stand by him in any battle. Even if I wasn't king."

Loki returned the smile and patted his shoulder. "You are an exceptional prince. I can envision bright things in your future. You. . . You would make a great king. If you'll excuse me." Loki retired from his perch and quietly left Richter's chambers.

That evening at dinner, Richter was distracted. No one took much notice. Roderich hardly batted an eyelash towards him. As Loki had hoped, Thor brought up the question of how the brothers intended to rule dually. Loki was amused. Perhaps Thor was trying to show to him that he was going to make an effort in ruling alongside. . . whom? Baldur? Loki once again realized he never had a chance at the throne. If Loki killed Baldur, hardly anyone outside the palace would feel the death. If Loki killed Thor, however, that was a much different manner.

He decided he could at least get rid of one individual.

Hypothetically, of course.

_23:47_

_8.1.14_


	8. Cruel is Fate

Several weeks passed. Loki and Thor still resided in Midgard, living on the courtesy of the German brothers. Loki did become close to Richter, as Thor wished. But he was still not convinced this soul was Siv's. In fact, he spent every minute of his time with the Midgardian prince secretly interrogating him, searching for any traces of her personality and crushing them. He was determined to prove to Thor that she was nonexistent. But he did not just convince himself that Siv was not of this body. He removed the trust Richter felt for his elder brother, if only for a moment, to place a seed of hatred underneath. It pleased Loki to watch it take root.

Richter spent less time with his brother now. Roderich hardly seemed to notice, too involved with learning about Thor and Asgard. Richter seethed quietly in the dining hall night after night. One evening after dinner, Loki approached him slowly. The German prince held a knife, stabbing it mindlessly into a wooden fixture beside him.

"What troubles you?" the Asgardian spoke from a distance.

Richter smiled ruefully. The anger and pain were hardly subtle. "He announced it over dinner. Did you not hear it? Roderich is to be married in a fortnight, to a woman of French origin. She has no sister."

Loki let out a low whistle. His trick was playing out too perfectly. Surely something by now would have thrown off his original plan. He collected himself and gently patted Richter's shoulder. "So this means he really is vying for control of the throne," he murmured under his breath.

Richter nodded and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "You were right, Loki. About my brother. About all of it. I should just –"

"You should just what?" Roderich said quietly from behind. Loki looked up. Richter did not. "Are you angry at me, brother?" he asked solemnly. "It was not my intent to hurt you. I fell in love. There are only so many princesses we can marry and forge truces with." His words were soft, yet hit Richter like lead. Loki shook his head slowly. It was playing out _much_ too perfectly.

"Do not talk to me of _love_, brother," Richter whispered. "Do you remember the agony borne of love? How mother and father were so saddened by our sweet sister's death that they, too, drowned themselves in the lake? That is what love does. Your French princess is going to die in this castle, because of your love! It is a curse! And then you will die as well! From the inside, your heart and your spirit will shatter! And you will be just a husk of the man you used to be, until your body cannot handle the sadness anymore and gives up."

Richter turned to face his brother. Roderich flinched. Loki was not sure if it was a reaction to the pain on his brother's face or the knife in his hand. He was not particularly eager to find out what would happen next.

But Roderich did not speak. Instead, he shook his head and retired to his chambers. He was not seen for three days.

In the time Roderich kept himself locked away, Loki took the opportunity to try and catch a glimpse of what Richter's next move would be.

"You worried me that evening," Loki said. "Your grip on the knife was truly deadly. I feared for Roderich's life."

Richter let out an empty laugh. "I might just be happier with him dead. I was never one to play well with others. Always fascinated with people, yet never fascinated enough to stay around. I would make a terrible husband," he added in jest. Loki smiled faintly.

"How do you view this marriage between Roderich and his fiancé?" the Aesir prince asked.

Richter thought for a moment. "I see is as a threat to myself, to my authority as prince, and a broken promise. Promises broken make for sharper daggers than any blade. Do you not agree?"

Loki agreed.

Richter sighed. "I just wish I could win my brother back somehow. I know there is a wedge driven between us that will never heal. We will forever be scarred by this day. Even if he does not marry her, even if he upholds his promise. He threatens to break everything by this simple marriage. We will not become kings together. Father never wanted me to be a king, anyway," he continued. "I was just an extra, in case something happened to Richter. I suppose I knew that from the beginning."

Loki stood. "It is not fair to you," he said with pain in his voice, "to sit by and watch your brother take everything you have ever wanted. You seem more than willing to assume the position, while he. . ."

"He has always been a silent and reserved person. I've rarely seen him smile, even as a child. He can only rule as a strict king. I can rule as a fair and understanding king. I can judge based on the quality of a man, not by how much money he has or how important he is. Roderich is marrying for love, he says, but he has _never_ met this woman. I suspect he was sent a picture in her likeness along with a letter of proposal by the woman's father. I doubt she even speaks German! I know he does not speak French."

Loki patted Richter's shoulder in an attempt to calm him. "Please, friend, do not stress yourself over this matter. Things can always be repaired. Tonight, why not take Roderich out on the lake? Just the two of you. Then you can talk, and perhaps rekindle your bond. Do not let these few acts undo your entire history together. I can assure you, if you make the effort, he will match that effort. You will come back as brothers once more."

Richter nodded slowly. "You are right, my friend. I shall do that. Tonight, after dinner."

And the deal was set.

However, Thor seemed unaware of the anger lodged in Richter's heart. That evening over a feast of beef and stew, he gave a toast to the future King Roderich. They discussed what his plans would be, what actions he would take to be described as a good king, what to do if war broke out in the area. Roderich answered every one of them with a smile. It tore Richter's heart and mind to shreds. Loki stomped heavily on Thor's foot. It had little effect.

"Roderich."

The hall quieted down.

"Might you join me tonight on the lake with a few drinks? I would like to personally congratulate you on this marriage . . . and offer my sincerest apologies for the way I acted a few nights ago. It was childish and belittling of me. We are but one year apart. I ought to start acting like so."

Roderich smiled at his brother. He accepted.

They finished their meal and wandered to the lake, where they rowed out on a small boat and talked alone. Loki tore through the castle in search of Thor. He seemed to have just vanished into thin air. Loki finally found him in the weapons vault, admiring their blades.

"Thor! What are you doing?" Loki hissed.

"They are amusing, these swords." The golden haired prince held one out, poking his opposing arm with the tip. "I am sure for their time they are of the best quality, but this metal is so flimsy. Do you think they have the metal we use? But I suppose it doesn't matter, the humans are so fragile anyways."

Loki appeared ready to rip his hair out. "Do you have any idea what you did tonight?"

"I spoke with Roderich and congratulated him," Thor said.

"You _idiot_!"

"Did I do something wrong? Out of their culture?" Thor was horribly confused.

"Brother, I feared Richter was going to kill Roderich for breaking his promise. I did not tell you, but a few nights ago, he almost pulled a knife to his elder brother. I managed to calm him down, and suggested to him that he take Roderich out on the lake so they can try to act as brothers again. And then you, _you_, had to celebrate Roderich's crowning achievement of breaking his most precious promise. It would be so easy for Richter to drown him in the lake now, and make it look like an accident. He is volatile and ill-minded! Do you have any idea what you have done?"

Thor stood, hand over his mouth, as he looked over his fretting brother. "I did not know, I apologize –"

"An apology from you won't save Roderich's life now!" Loki snapped.

Thor sat and held his face in his hands. "You are right. All we can do now is hope Richter will be forgiving and sensible."

҉

Richter returned from the lake that night, shivering and wet and alone.

"The boat tipped," he said through chattering teeth. He looked terrified. "The boat tipped. He drank too much. I tried to save him. He could not swim. I tried save him. He is dead."

The Asgardians looked at each other. A pool of dread bubbled in the lowest parts of Thor's stomach. They knew the truth.

The boat indeed tipped, but not without reason. Loki pieced together the events in his mind. Richter aimed to strangle the life from his brother, and instead held him under. Roderich's thrashing caused the boat to tip, and it hit him in the head, rendering him unconscious. The frigid water would kill him shortly, if he was not dead already. Richter's shock came from the water itself. He was fearful. Fearful as if he'd seen a ghost.

Loki suspected Roderich was not the only soul he killed in that lake.

It took enormous effort to keep from smiling.

The mortal prince drifted away silently, pulled along by doctors and servants. Loki pulled his brother aside, whispering frantically.

"Thor, we need to get out of here."

"Do you want me to summon the Bifrost myself? We need to wait for Heimdall. I have already tried calling him, thrice. He must not have his attention directed at us. I truly do not want to fear the worst, but it is seeping into me, Loki."

"So we just wait here until Heimdall chances to look our way? Thor, I do not have the strength. . ." Loki bit his lip quickly. What would happen if he let slip that he could get in and out of Asgard without Heimdall's help? Thor looked down at him. Loki shook his head. "I do not have the strength to be in this place any longer. You saw what he did to his brother. Think what he will do to his friends."

Thor looked at the wall solemnly. "I am sorry," he murmured.

Loki paused. "For what? You could not have known. This was Richter, all Richter."

"Yes, but. . ." Thor heaved a heavy sigh. "I thought for sure I could help you find Siv. You were right. She could never be in that body. I am truly sorry for forcing this upon you. I should have listened."

It was silent for a tense moment. Loki raised a hand tentatively, patted his brother's shoulder once, and stepped away. "I am going to Richter's chambers. He seems to trust me. Obviously more than he trusted Roderich. I will try to tide him over. You continue to attract Heimdall's attention."

Thor nodded and Loki was gone.

Loki did not find the blond prince in his bedroom. He asked every servant he passed, dreading what had become of the boy. His trick was not yet complete. Finally, one pointed him toward the lake. Loki's stomach dropped. Was the boy going to drown himself? This castle really was cursed, then. Loki smiled grimly and quickly made his way to the dock. There, he found Richter, bundled tight in furs. It made the Aesir prince sick.

"Richter?" he managed.

He looked up, surprised to see Loki. "You would know, wouldn't you? Come. Sit. Let me tell you a story."

Loki cautiously eased forward. He was not entirely trusting of Richter's mental state. He sat.

It was disturbingly quiet.

Finally, Richter looked down at his hands and cleared his throat. "I did kill him. His ending was an accident, unnecessarily violent, but I did kill him. I poisoned the wine he did not drink from. I was almost forced to drink it. I threw it at his face. He screamed. I strangled him to silence the noise. He toppled over the edge, and I with him. The boat flipped and hit his skull. He sank.

"I was under the boat for some time. The water was cold and it reached deep into my lungs. I could not breathe. I feared I would die as well. A fitting punishment, I suppose. I almost let go of the edge, when I saw my beautiful little sister. At that point I thought I was already dead. She was quiet and sad and looked at me with such dismay I could have cried. She died six months ago. She was younger than I by two years. She died at the age of fourteen. A lovely girl. She wore her hair in braids, though one always seemed to loosen itself. And her eyes were beautiful and clear and blue, like this lake in winter. She was so precious to the family, and I killed her. It was an accident. I loved her more than I loved anyone in the world. I would have married her, if it were not a sin. She was to be wedded that spring to an old man, a dying king who was desperate for heirs. I killed her in this lake as winter set in. She was going to be defiled by that old wretch. She was going to be taken from me. I couldn't handle it. I killed her with my own hands.

"But she appeared before me tonight, under the boat. Silent as a ghost. Maybe she _was_ a ghost. I do not know. My mind could have been playing tricks on me. She whispered something to me. 'I still search for him', she said. I do not think she meant that old king."

Richter looked up at his friend. Tears welled in his eyes.

"She always drew pictures of a young boy and a weasel. In the winter. They were beautiful. She would tell me a story – one story of him. A reoccurring dream of hers. I believe she felt so strongly for the boy in her dreams that she died hoping he would come for her.

"How do I atone for that?" Richter sobbed. "How do I atone for killing my sister, who wished for nothing more in the world than to find the one her dreams begged to lead her to? How do I atone for inadvertently killing my mother and father, who threw themselves together in this lake two months after her death, to drown in ice? How do I atone for killing my brother tonight out of fear and jealousy? He was all I had left, and I crushed him like a dry bone."

"Richter, I have to tell you something," Loki whispered. His throat was tight. His vision swam. "Thor intends to remove himself and me from this environment. It is time we return to Asgard. We have been avoiding our duties as princes for far too long. We must return to face the problems we ran from. You are strong, Richter. You are alone in this castle, no kin to call your own. Become king. Marry your brother's fiancé. Rule in his name. In your father's name. In your mother's and sister's name. Become a just and wise king. You were born to rule. It is the hand of fate that led you here."

Richter wept for a time before Loki pulled him gently to his feet. "Come, Richter, be brave," Loki whispered. He hoped the boy would not look up at him again. The kindness in his voice and touch did not meet his eyes. "I fear I will be leaving before dawn. Thor is adamant about returning."

Richter nodded and stumbled along the dock.

"Before I leave, I have one thing I must ask of you."

҉

Richter sat heavily on the throne. The feeling of death enveloped him as he adjusted on the cushion. It was nowhere near as glorious as he hoped. Loki came forth and placed two golden armlets in the lap of the new future king. He attached them to Richter's wrists and stood, bowing.

"I bestow upon you a great sign of respect for my people. These are a symbol of status. Wear them proudly."

Richter nodded solemnly and stared at the beautiful golden bands. They were enchanting.

As Loki stepped down, he slid a dusty old book into the folds of his coat. Richter sniffed. "You are leaving so soon, my friend?"

"Thor calls to me. The Bifrost is open. I must return home." Loki bowed once more.

Richter nodded. "Very well. I will sit vigil tonight here on the throne." He closed his eyes and settled into his shroud of discomfort.

Loki turned and walked briskly to the doorway. The moment Loki exited the great oak doors, he was met with his brother's fierce gaze. "Loki, Heimdall is ready. Are you?" he whispered urgently. Loki nodded quickly. The Bifrost opened and they returned to Asgard.

The armlets presented to Richter hissed and rattled. Richter, frightful, tried to pry them off. He had never witnessed jewelry such as this. But it was too late for him. The armlets became large snakes that bit into his wrists, injecting him with poison. He screeched in pain. They then became a set of shackles, tying Richter to the throne he fought so hard for. The venom was hot. Richter writhed in agony; he could feel it spreading through his body like fire. He _became_ fire. Richter burst into flames, screaming, begging for relief, cursing God. There was a face before him, a body. His beloved sister stood at the foot of the burning throne with her furs soaking wet. She stared at him with empty, sad eyes.

"Why, brother?" she whispered. "He was so close. I could feel him. I knew he would come."

"Who?" Richter wanted to ask. Flames licked at the inside of his throat. He answered with a gurgle.

"He was here. He was within my grasp. Loki."

And then she jumped into the fire, screeching in agony. Richter could have cried. The ghost of his precious sister was here to take him to Hell. All that remained of Richter after the fires died down were two golden armlets and the stench of burning flesh. Not even ash remained.

҉

The Asgardian princes returned to Heimdall's observatory in the dead of night. Loki was not expecting to see the same darkness in two realms.

"How long have we been away?" Thor questioned. He prayed this ill-fated visit had not been for long.

"You are approaching your second day. If you are not in the dining hall by dawn, your father will send a party to hunt you down. I suspect he already knows you are here, but I recommend piling your plates high and start eating early," Heimdall replied. "And Loki," he added, turning a golden gaze to the pale prince. "What are you hiding from me?"

Loki shook his head and retrieved the old leather-bound book from his coat. "It is nothing," he whispered, "Just a Midgardian fairy tale. It won't last through the ages." He tossed it over the side of the great bridge without a second's thought. Heimdall might have smiled. Loki did not care. He felt as if he had seconds before he released the contents of his stomach over the edge of the bridge as well. He was pale and clammy and shaking.

Heimdall closed his eyes. He knew they would not reach Earth in time. Heimdall located Siv's soul when Thor asked what felt like ages ago. Moments later, she was killed. He did not tell Thor. Thor did not ask.

"Brother, is everything alright?" Thor asked cautiously. He reached to pat Loki's shoulder.

"_Get away from me!_" Loki snarled.

He returned to the palace alone. He stood in front of his bedroom door, staring at the woodwork. It was beautiful on any other day; tonight it appeared to Loki as an impenetrable barrier, preventing him from gaining access to what he wanted most. What did he want most? He wanted revenge. He did not stay to watch Richter burn. Something was missing now. His trick was not yet complete. What was the point in telling a joke if you discarded the punch line?

He sank to his knees, back to the door. The raven haired prince knew he fell prey to his own trick this time. Richter and Roderich hit too close to home. In truth, it seemed the joke he played was actually on himself all along. From Asgard, Siv was murdered just a matter of hours before Loki made it to the place called Germany.

He truly hated Thor now, for forcing him into this mess. Loki could have lived his life in peace, believing he would not see that hopeless human ever again. He hated Heimdall, for not telling either of the brothers her fate before they risked their necks and returned to Midgard. And he hated Baldur for being eldest, automatic heir the throne with no real experiences, locked away as per Mother's request. But he hated Odin most of all, the unjust father who had room in his heart for only one son at a time, yet never seemed to have room for Loki.

"I will destroy you all," he vowed, glaring into the darkness.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. A shadow approached. "Loki?" a woman said. She approached his crumpled heap.

Loki let out a broken laugh. "Of course it would be you," he whispered. She crouched before him, clicking her tongue. Her dark hair shadowed her face, but he knew who she was. He allowed himself to stroke the side of her cheek. "Lady Sif, why are you here and not with Thor?"

"He sent me to find you," she answered. Loki's demeanor unnerved her. "What is wrong?" she asked, checking his forehead for a fever.

Loki shook his head, leaning into her. "Many, many years ago, I met a human for the first time. . ."

_21:33_

_9.1.14_


	9. Their Secret

Roughly sixty years passed on Asgard.

Today marked the vernal equinox. The air was heavy with nectar and pollen, but it was sweet. Thor rose early as ever. He dressed in his favorite armor, mounted his favorite horse, and rode into the city. He was met with several morning greetings, but nothing else.

"Has everyone forgotten?" Thor mused, stepping off his horse.

"Please, as if you would let anyone forget," came the chuckle of a familiar voice. Thor turned and was met by Lady Sif. She may have been of noble birth, but she much preferred to live outside the palace. He grinned at her.

"Well, then tell me what I want to hear," he said smugly.

"Happy vernal equinox?" she questioned, playing dumb. Thor pushed her shoulder. They roughhoused a bit. "What are you doing wandering Asgard so early in the morning? You should be sound asleep, saving your energy for tonight. You take your festivities seriously."

"Sleep? I can sleep the next week away. The celebration begins today. Early. Noon, preferably." Thor looked towards the palace.

"Of course," Sif smirked. "And then you can have a whole hall filled with drunken, sleeping men in your honor."

Thor laughed and patted her shoulder. "You will be there, Sif?"

She feigned shock. "You know I cannot! I must train hard today, I've no time for petty parties! I am a woman! I do not celebrate!"

Thor shoved her playfully and mounted his horse once more. "Well, train your way to the palace if you can manage it. I have a bet with the Three that you will make someone bleed tonight. Make sure it's Fandral for me."

Sif rolled her eyes. "Indeed." She shooed Thor away and continued sweeping the steps that led to her flat. She would have to finish her training regimen early if she was going to be at the palace by noon.

҉

There was a horrible pounding on the door, followed by a very jubilant, "Loki, get up!"

Loki groaned, rubbing his face. "You are more obnoxious than usual this morning," he muttered.

"I heard that."

"You were meant to."

Thor chuckled. "You are banned from sleeping the day away, you must be festive with the rest of us tonight! I demand it!"

"Your demands are unkind, brother. I have not slept at all." Loki pulled himself from his bed and dressed as Thor no doubt hounded his door. He could practically feel his brother's frown through the oak. "Tis called insomnia," he added. "It is a common ailment for those with troubled minds. You could not fathom it. It is understandable. You have no mind at all."

Thor roared playfully from behind the solid doors. "You are lucky you have magic protecting these pathetic slabs of wood! I could have your head for that comment!"

Loki scoffed. "Thor, please." He finished dressing and sent a silent prayer that Thor would not snap his neck out of excitement. It was a special day. Thor had difficulty containing himself on special days. Including ones that revolved around him. Loki opened his door and braced for the inevitable: either a rib-crushing or neck-breaking hug. He was surprised to receive neither.

"Happy Birthday, Thor," he said plainly.

"Why is it the only one who tells me this says it in the most un-celebratory tone in existence?"

Loki allowed himself a smile.

Thor wrapped a thick arm around Loki's neck and mussed his hair. So Loki did not get away from Thor's affections after all. Loki growled loudly. Thor ignored him, spun on his heel, and literally dragged his younger brother by the neck to the dining hall. Loki likened himself to porcelain in the meaty hands of a giant toddler. The raven haired prince grimaced. He did not tell Thor to remove his arm, however; today was Thor's day. The tortures of his affectionate and boisterous elder brother would likely triple.

Thor released his kin and claimed his place at the table. Loki sat quietly, pouring himself a cup of honey mead. He needed to start drinking early if he was going to tolerate the night. Thor laughed and did the same. Soon after they began eating, Frigga and Baldur joined them in the hall. They both wished a happy birthday and sat. Baldur seated himself quietly beside Loki and took the bottle of mead. This was to be his breakfast. Loki smiled faintly.

"Is Father not awake?" Thor questioned between mouthfuls of sweet bread. The food on the table must have gravitated toward him; the sweet bread in question was clear on the opposite end of the hall when Loki sat down.

Frigga clicked her tongue. "He is off who knows where. I told him to be here this morning, but I awoke to an empty bed." Thor paused only briefly to frown at the table, then continued to stuff his face. "He is like you," Frigga continued, turning her attention to Loki. "He prefers to be anywhere else but home."

"Please do not compare me to him, Mother," Loki murmured through a baked apple.

Baldur chuckled. Frigga did not reply. They ate their meal in a comfortable silence. By the time Thor finished, he consumed over half of the table.

"No doubt you could give Volstaag a run for his money," Loki said in quiet shock as Thor patted his stomach. "How exactly do you manage to fit all that in there and still move?"

"It would be helpful if you had a few muscles," Thor answered smugly.

Loki immediately took the rest of the honey mead from Baldur. "I am going to need this much more than you," he insisted with a hard look. Baldur held up his hands, palms open.

Suddenly, their friendly banter was interrupted by a few loud whoops and one, "Will you be quiet?" Thor stood, returning the loud noise. His friends Volstaag, Fandral, and the newly-acquired Vanir-friend Hogun came early as requested. Frigga retreated to prepare herself for the night ahead.

"My friends!" Thor said as they filtered through the hall. "There are the infamous Three. Is Sif not with you?"

"Of course you worry about Sif," Fandral smirked, stroking his chin.

"She's probably having trouble deciding which set of armor to wear," Volstaag snorted, helping himself to a handful of grapes and a baked apple.

"I wonder if she'll wear the armor I had casted for her," Thor said hopefully. There were a few coy whistles sent Thor's way. He grinned sheepishly.

"You had armor cast for her?" Hogun said. His usual somber demeanor was broken only for this occasion.

"Oh, don't make a fuss out of it! She said she was having difficulty moving with normal armor, so I had a blacksmith cast her more appropriate pieces for her figure," Thor replied. His cheeks were turning various shades of pink.

"We are ignored," Baldur commented from Loki's side.

"We are not ignored, we don't even exist," Loki muttered.

"Feeling bitter, Loki?" Fandral smirked, winking at him. Loki cringed. "It's alright, we'll give you plenty of attention as well. But this is Thor's day, do _try_ to not be so greedy."

"Perhaps he is upset you are making a move for Sif tonight," Volstaag said, nudging Thor's arm. Thor laughed and shook his head but stayed quiet.

Baldur was perplexed. "But Loki, didn't you –?"

Loki shook his head quickly.

"What is this?" Fandral questioned, slinging an arm around Loki's shoulders and mussing his hair. "Did you already try for her hand? My, my, an underground worker! You couldn't even woo her with your silver tongue?" Three of the six laughed. Thor cast Loki a dangerous look while his friends were not looking.

"I would recommend not doing that again," Loki murmured coolly as he delicately fixed his hair. "I can only imagine the fit you would throw if I returned the gesture." Fandral protectively held a hand to his locks.

"What's wrong, Loki? Fur rubbed the wrong way?" Volstaag snorted, mewling for added effect.

"It does not matter. She'll not approach you while I am here." Loki slid out from under Fandral's arm and stalked off, Baldur at his heels.

The four remaining boys stared after them.

"Who wants to take another bet about what happened between Loki and Sif?" Fandral said.

Thor, Volstaag, and Hogun turned out their pockets.

҉

"Eight hundred years ago this day in Asgard, my Queen gave birth to our second son. He was a troublemaker from the start. Hardheaded, stubborn, but joyful and strong. He was taxing to raise. I do not pretend I was there to aid my wife, as I was away for many days at a time. But I have watched my beautiful son grow into a magnificent soldier.

"Thor," Odin said, standing. Thor came forward and knelt before his father. "On this evening of the eight hundredth year of your birth, I bestow upon you the true power of a god. Your strength is already unparalleled. Your virtues are respectable and admired. You are already a fine warrior. But as King, and as your father, I deem you more – I present to you the title of God of Thunder. Strike your enemies with a fierce bolt. Make your presence known. Bring on the storm that comes with your namesake."

Electricity crackled and sparked, welling from the floor underneath Thor's feet. He was surrounded in a bright light; many shielded their eyes. The energy faded away. Thor stood. Odin raised his glass.

"May you have many long and prosperous years ahead of you, my son," Odin said proudly. "You are still growing inside, but you have reached the age of adulthood. Drink from your goblet proudly; you will make for a fearsome opponent to all who oppose Asgard. To Thor!"

"To Thor!" the hall repeated. There was a silence as they all drank, then the air unanimously erupted into cheers.

"To you, brother," Loki said, nodding slowly. "You truly have everything now. Not many are blessed with physical strength _and_ magic."

Thor was then presented with gifts: an ornate mirror from the ever-preening Fandral; a large and juicy slab of boar meat, slathered in honey and spices from Volstaag; a specially-made iron mace from Hogun; a set of the finest hidden daggers from Loki; a silver helmet decorated with ornate wings from Frigga.

"Nice feathers," Loki commented, eyeing them.

"I don't want to hear a word from you, cow," Thor laughed.

Loki scowled. "They are goat horns."

"Of course," Thor snickered.

"What about your gift, Sif?" Volstaag asked, stroking his sizeable beard.

Sif chuckled, shaking her head. "My presence is your present," she said, pouring herself and the boys more wine. "Congratulations on being recognized as an adult, Thor. I did not think you would make it." She nudged his shoulder. He winked at her. Loki snorted.

Hogun sat back, hand on his knee as he watched Sif and Thor. They flirted for a bit, either seemingly unaware of their surroundings or incredibly bold. Volstaag reached for his pocket under the table. The Vanir noted something felt off about the raven haired prince. Loki seemed dangerously amused, or masking his anger with a smile. It was hard to tell which. It made him uncomfortable.

"Might I take you on a tour through the heart of the palace later?" Thor asked, pulling Sif onto his lap. She shot him a precarious glance through her smile. He was certainly feeling confident that she would not flatten him. His confidence was correct. She settled on his knee with her goblet.

"That might have worked if you hadn't already shown me around the place twice. I do come around, you know." She placed the goblet to her lips, curious to see how he would take her jabs.

Thor grinned. "Ah, but I am willing to bet that there are at least four places you have not seen yet."

"Four?" she questioned.

"Four: my parents' chambers, Baldur's chambers, Loki's chambers, and my own."

The boys whistled loudly. Sif elbowed Thor sharply, laughing.

"That isn't exactly true," Loki said, staring into his goblet with sudden boredom. The scent of liquor wafted on his skin like cologne.

"How so?" Thor asked, trying his best not to glower.

Loki smirked. His eyes flitted up to Sif. She paled. "There are three places she has not seen yet. Take my chambers off of your list."

Everyone was silent.

"What exactly are you talking about, brother?" Thor said, an edge to his voice and smile. Sif shook her head slowly.

Loki sighed and rolled his eyes. "It should be obvious. I do not wish to embarrass your girlfriend further, but since you are so adamant." Loki hummed in contempt.

"Remember the last time we returned to Midgard, how you were _so_ determined to find that stupid human soul again for me? How you tried and tried and in the end you still were wrong? You ruined me, brother. And then to make up for it, you sent Lady Sif to me to ease my pain. I told her everything about Siv. Everything. Right down to the dreams that you fear so much. I told her she reminded me of that human. Fiery and strong and brave. Everything I sought for, everything you sought to return to me once I realized I would never find it again. She took it upon herself to help me feel better. You did a marvelous job, by the way," Loki smirked.

"You jest," Thor said, chuckling. It was not a question. His grip on Sif's waist would have crushed her had she not been wearing her armor. Thor looked up at Sif, who sat stiffly on his knee. She stared at Loki as if he were stabbing a knife through her chest. "He jests," Thor said, less confident now.

Sif did not know how to react. They swore never to speak of it again, and yet, here he was, spilling her darkest secret to her friends. She slowly stood and poured them all more wine. She moved as if she were submerged in water. The memory hit her like a tidal wave.

_"Many, many years ago, I met a human for the first time," Loki sighed, leaning his head against her shoulder. Sif settled beside him. She knew this story well, from another mouth. The Valkyrie found herself becoming the one the princes confided in when they had no one else to turn to. _

"_And no one can shake the idea that I still love her. It has come to Thor's attention that I seem to be 'incomplete' without this human – this is according to him, mind you. He went to Midgard by himself to find her again." Loki paused, swallowing. "That is the problem with Thor. He thinks, because I have a tiny cut, that it is his duty to make a hero out of himself to offer me an unnecessary bandage. I adore my brother, but in his attempts to heal me, he has only opened the wound wider."_

_ Sif patted his knee. It was not uncommon for Sif to listen to Loki's rants, but tonight was different. Tonight, he seemed off. More broken. Usually, his tirade included several insults about the star child. She could not help but wonder about the mortal. Thor hid nothing from her about Loki; Sif had long pretended she knew nothing._

_ "What are your feelings toward this human?" Sif asked slowly. She could not deny her little curiosity._

_ The raven haired prince let out a chuckle that sounded as fragile as his heart. "I do not know anymore. Truthfully, I do not. I was content to love her as a friend, mourn her as a departed soul and move on. But everyone is so adamant on bringing her back for me that they've convinced me I yearn for her romantically. Not one of the souls I have hunted is my Siv. And if they were, I destroyed them by one accident or another. It is just not worth it to keep believing in her. I cannot live another ten thousand years like this."_

'Ten thousand is a bit of a stretch,'_ Sif could not help but think. But she stayed silent. He was only venting his emotions. They made an oddly perfect pair, she decided. He was frowned upon for seeming weak and womanly. She was frowned upon for seeming masculine and wild. Sif sighed and stood, pulling him to his feet. "Come now, let's at least take you inside," she murmured. The raven haired prince hung limply against her. She could not hide a smile; she shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Work with me."_

_ Loki placed his palm against the intricate woodwork. Thin green strings of magical netting unknotted themselves and faded. His enchantment was released, and they entered Loki's chambers. "You remind me of her," Loki said suddenly._

_ "Of the human?" Sif replied, surprised._

_ Loki nodded. "In personality. Strong, and you both do not give up. Brave. You fight until the fight is over. And your face. You share her expressions. You share a common name, as well. She was no doubt named for you. And your hair, now, since I cut it. The darkness reminds me of her in shadow." He looked at Sif with a weak smile. Sif patted the back of her hair instinctively. She remembered the accident – how they trained together, and a stray blade of his sliced the ponytail clean off. It darkened considerably, rejecting the steel. She remembered how childishly her rage burned from the mistake._

_Sif sighed. In that instant, she allowed herself a moment of tenderness. She hugged him tightly. "I wish there was something I could do to comfort you. The similarities no doubt cause you pain," she mumbled, stepping away._

_ "They do," he murmured. Sif noticed his eyes did not leave her face. He stepped closer to her once more. "Forgive me," he said in advance. Sif shook her head. It took her a moment to understand what he meant. His eyes pierced through her. They seemed to yearn for something . . . but they did not yearn for her. Sif wondered if he was even looking at her and not at something in his imagination._

_ She found herself wrapped in his arms, wrapped in his blankets, wrapped in his body. It was suffocating and liberating. He was gentle yet demanding. Light and fervent. And what was she? Sif found herself unable to control how she acted. It was not like her. Not like the warrior façade she adopted to blend in and stand out. He womanized her. It was humiliating. Relieving. It did not matter that she could not tell if he called her name or Siv's; it did not matter that he held her as he likely imagined another woman. Sif had never known this kind of excitement until now. There was only so much exhilaration to be earned from riding into battle surrounded by men who did not know how to handle themselves around a woman with a sword._

_ Early in the morning, Sif found herself alone in the prince's bed. Loki paced his floor, muttering quietly to himself. Sif swallowed hard. This feeling, what was it? The feeling that stifled the room, flooded his mind, drowned her nerves? Dread for the future. Regret for the past. They agreed this changed several things. Firstly, they could no longer hold the same friendship. Secondly, they were to act as friends before the others, as to discourage curiosity. Thirdly, they were required to forget the events of the night, purge it from their minds. And finally, they were to never speak of this again – not to a soul or each other or a ledger or a mirror. They completely erased the night from themselves, and by extension, destroyed their bond. Loki would no longer rely on her for comfort or solace. The warrior dressed quietly and removed herself from his presence._

"Continue your flirting," Loki urged, sweeping his hand at them. "But remember I had her in my bed first. Happy Birthday, Thor."

Thor snarled loudly and grabbed Loki by the collar of his tunic, hoisting him in the air. Outside the palace, a sudden storm swirled menacingly in the night sky. The golden haired prince would have enjoyed throwing his drunken brother into a wall had he not been surrounded. It did not matter, he decided. Many a night passed in the hall where the princes erupted into battle. The guests were used to such behavior. "I am eager to test these new powers," Thor thundered. But still, something held him back. Odin watched his sons from a distance, taking note at the severity of their tempest in a teacup.

Loki chuckled. "Why the hesitation?" he asked snidely. Thor slowly lowered him back to the ground, scowling. It would leave a bad image if he destroyed his brother over this. Loki continued to jab at him. "You do not usually show so much restraint. Trying to make a good impression on Father? Or perhaps your girlfriend?" he sneered.

The Valkyrie reached out, quick as lightning, and slammed Loki's head into the table. She simply could not handle it any longer. Loki stumbled and fell back; he hissed in pain, holding his bleeding forehead. Thor let out an empty laugh. She did the same to him as well. The Three quickly exchanged their bet money behind her back. If she caught them, they all no doubt faced the same fate. Sif removed herself from the environment, mortified.

Heimdall, who was relieved of his gatekeeper duty for the evening, approached their corner of the great hall. "Loki, I advise you to go back to your chambers. You are drunk." He then proceeded to lead the sniggering boy away from the festivities and back to his room. Baldur tagged along behind.

It would be a few decades before Sif and Thor spoke regularly to each other once more.

_22:07_

_10.1.14_


	10. Come Back

Baldur was over a thousand years of age when Frigga finally allowed him to leave his room of his own accord. The newfound freedom was strange and exhilarating. He went about Asgard, summoning his brothers and friends and friends of friends to celebrate with him his invincibility. It was physically impossible for Baldur to be harmed by anything other than old age and death itself. Baldur was ensured a long life of happiness without mortal suffering. Upon seeing Baldur celebrating with his friends, Frigga held a party in his honor.

The eldest brother, who had been robbed of his childhood, took advantage of his "immortality"; Frigga could not object now. He urged his friends to wrestle with him, to throw weapons at him, to try and put a scratch on him. Every attack was repelled by an invisible force.

Thor was especially thrilled. "Time to make up for years of excuses!" he shouted, slamming into Baldur with all his might. The force sent Baldur flying, but he stood virtually unharmed.

Frigga, although certain her most beautiful child could not be harmed, gasped each time he was hit, each time a weapon was raised to her precious boy.

"You brought this upon him," Odin reminded her gently, observing.

She nodded quietly, steadying her frantic heart. "Yes, I suppose you are right. Though, I cannot help myself. It is a mother's fear, always."

Odin chuckled and nodded.

Loki kept to his mother's side. He was eight hundred and twenty four now, and no longer a boy. Once lanky and thin, he filled out his form and became a sleek, attractive young man. He was still scrawny by comparison to Thor. But then, anyone was scrawny by comparison to Thor.

"This could be useful in battle," Baldur exclaimed, marveling at his hand with a breathless smile. It should have been sliced off.

"'Could be'?" Sif repeated, hitting him across the head with her shield. The shockwave reverberated through her arm. Baldur didn't even feel it. He laughed and stood, brushing the dirt from his trousers. "You know," Sif grinned, "you make for very good stress relief,"

The boys laughed, save for Hogun. He watched the excitement with a frown.

"Oh, what is it now?" Volstaag asked, elbowing his melancholy friend. "Join in! He obviously cannot be hurt! Frigga made sure of it."

"Tis true, she did," Baldur confirmed, nodding with a deadpan expression.

Hogun still was not settled. "What if there was something she missed?"

Loki looked up at his mother. Frigga rubbed her forehead in exhaustion. She worked every day since Baldur's birth to ensure no harm could come to him. She travelled to many of the nine realms to receive the promise of every single thing she set her eyes on. She still had work to do, but today she decided she would rest.

"Mother," Loki murmured, concern layering his voice, "How can you be sure that you protected him?"

"Oh, Loki, please do not start this now," she chuckled. "Everything in Asgard at this present moment cannot harm him."

"Everything?" Loki said, astonished. "My, Mother, you were thorough."

Frigga nodded, closing her eyes. She rested her forehead against her fist for just a moment, before her eyelids fluttered open. "There is one thing I did not check," she continued. "It was such a tiny little plant, the first of its kind, growing out of the crevice of one of the stone arches in the courtyard. But it was such a small and helpless thing that I decided I would wait until it grew and became threatening."

Loki nodded slowly. "May I relocate it for the time being? You can never be too safe."

Frigga nodded and shooed him away. Odin watched Loki quietly, reproachful of his curiosity. That son did not ask questions without reason.

But Loki did just as he said. He delicately pried the small, insignificant plant from under the archway and took it to his chambers, where he potted and examined it. Its leaves were strange and waxy, its berries reminiscent of frog's eggs. He plucked one berry from the tiny plant.

Loki smiled.

A few minutes later, Loki returned to the courtyard with his arms full of weapons. "I brought more!" he said. "From the armory!"

"Come to join in the celebration? How uncharacteristic of you," Thor teased. Loki rolled his eyes but did not respond. The group seemed to have multiplied in the time Loki was not around. He set the weapons on the table with a heavy thud.

"There," he chuckled, "attack my poor brother to your heart's content." Baldur did not react to Loki's presence. He was too occupied with testing his abilities against the strength of five, fifteen, fifty young warriors. It was as if Loki was all but invisible to him now. The raven haired prince attempted to join in the festivities, but was muscled away by the brawny young adults surrounding his eldest brother. Loki returned to his mother's side without another word.

Sometime into the evening, Baldur received a single cut on the inside of his left arm. It was paper thin, a trivial wound. No one spoke of it, or no one noticed. Baldur did not bleed; he must have been alright. They all filtered into the dining hall and feasted heavily. Wines, meats, pastries, and cheeses. Everyone celebrated and made merry. Sif sat beside Thor and the Three. They crossed the hurdle in their relationship with only one downfall: they discovered through Loki on the night of Thor's eight hundredth birthday that they would not be compatible as anything more than comrades.

Loki watched Baldur. His eldest brother seemed to have developed a new personality overnight. For as long as Loki could remember, he was a silent and watchful boy, keeping to the outskirts of the conversation, invisible to everyone. He was a myth to the rest of Asgard. Now, he was the life of the party. Everyone who was in the hall that night knew his name, and his fame would only grow. He became boisterous and loud. Cocky. Nothing could harm him. He would take the throne as the invincible king of Asgard when the time came. Nothing could get in the way of his birthright now. Not even the mighty Thor, crowning achievement in the eyes of Odin. Asgard belonged to Baldur. His name was an imperceptible hand reaching over the realm, collecting it in his palm. He was no longer the pitiful, unnecessary brother. He was no longer like Loki.

Unfortunately the news of Baldur's confirmed existence would not spread beyond the palace.

"Baldur, are you alright?" Loki asked suddenly, setting down his knife.

Baldur was paling, slowly, but he was paling. His skin was beginning to feel cold and clammy. His hands trembled every once in a while. "I'm fine, I'm fine," Baldur said proudly. "What could possibly harm me?" he asked. The table laughed.

Loki stood and went to his side. "No, brother," he said, eyes full of worry. "You look dreadfully ill. Did you eat something bad?"

"I am fine," Baldur snapped. Loki blinked in surprise, stepping back.

"Loki is right," Thor said slowly, examining his elder brother. "You look as if you could be sick all over the table at any moment."

The laughter and excitement around them turned to murmurs of concern. Baldur shook his head and took one more bite. It was too much. He coughed; blood poured from his lips. There was a gasp. Before their eyes, Baldur fell dead.

Odin immediately put the blame on Loki, once the guests were removed. Baldur's death was so sudden, so strange that the Healers could not return him to life. Odin himself could not resuscitate Baldur, and was forced to send his son to Helheim. Loki's sobs did not soothe the All-Father's conscience.

"Odin, please!" Frigga begged between hiccups, "It was not an act of murder. You know it wasn't. It was my fault, I did not receive the plant's promise. No one knew it was poisonous. Loki was only trying to aid me by removing the plant."

"So he removed it, and just so happened to stop by the armory to pick up an armful of weapons? One being tipped with the poison from that mysterious weed that just so happened to be growing over the doorway?" Odin bellowed.

"It wasn't tipped! I just removed it out of precaution, how could you accuse me of this? He was my _brother_!" Loki shouted, hurt.

Thor said nothing. He just sat by his elder brother's body in stunned vigil. However, he could not help a single passing thought: _'The throne is in direct succession to me. I am the next king of Asgard.'_

҉

Baldur's funeral was eerie. Just two nights before, every guest celebrated his invincibility. Now, they were about to send him off in a longboat. Several of the attendants still felt the aftereffects of a night of heavy drinking. Odin gave a short speech in front of Baldur's floating grave. His words felt heavy on his tongue, his mind separated from the situation.

"When Baldur was born, he was the most beautiful child in all of the nine realms. My wife, Frigga, vowed to protect him. She spent every day of the last thousand years receiving the promise of every thing living and lifeless, their oath to not kill Baldur Odinson. She travelled to all but Midgard and Jotunheim. Two mornings ago, she decided Baldur was safe enough in Asgard. He spent his day as a boy, eagerly testing the promises made to his mother. There was but one thing in Asgard left to swear to Frigga that it would not harm Baldur. It was his undoing."

Frigga stepped forth and placed the potted plant delicately inside Baldur's longboat. "It was not the fault of anyone for Baldur's death. The blade that pierced his skin unknowingly held just enough poison to kill my precious child. A plant that did only what it was meant to: keep predators from harming it. I will forgive this innocent plant. I shall call it mistletoe, and declare it a symbol of the loved one's return."

Neither of the princes spoke for Baldur.

Thor, with the help of his father, pushed the longboat into the ocean and set it adrift. An archer lit his arrow, then cast it out to join Baldur into the afterlife.

It was a somber evening. The weeping family returned to their palace, where they went their separate ways. Frigga wept bitterly in one of her many sitting rooms. Thor sat alone in the dining hall, staring at the place where Baldur once sat. Odin retired to his bedchamber and fell into the Odinsleep. He slept for ten months.

Loki continued to watch the mistletoe plant grow and spread across the courtyard, becoming a weed that used the branches of its host plant to absorb water and nutrients. He would never admit to anyone but himself Baldur's death was no accident. The plant Frigga named mistletoe was a parasite of Midgardian origin. It was poisonous, yes, but hardly on the scale of death. Luckily, Baldur had absolutely no immune system at all. The poison was quick and thorough. Loki had to admit, the coughing blood was unexpected, but it was a nice touch.

Yet for months after Baldur's departure, Loki awoke in the middle of the night with cold sweats. Anxiety plagued him. Fear. He could not rest; his dreams were filled with thick smoke, suffocating and treacherous. What was this? This terror he felt? The sheer dread? It was not guilt, no. Loki did not feel guilt for murdering his eldest brother. But there was something significant the raven haired prince felt tied to the death of Baldur. It was destruction. War. It brought him to his knees night after night beside the wash basin, stomach contents lain out inside it for all to see. In the midst of the smoke that choked his mind, he sometimes saw two golden flames. Or perhaps they were eyes shrouded in the darkness. They seemed terribly familiar, but impossible to recognize.

One frozen night, the raven haired prince could handle the nightmares no more. He removed himself from his room. From the palace. From Asgard entirely. He ran away with only his magic, and hid himself in a pocket of space where not even Heimdall could find him. It was not the first time he whisked himself away for the sake of his sanity, but he hoped it would be the last. The stress was too much. Each day was a pressing reminder of how much of a failure he was to his father. As much as he tried, he would never be as strong as Thor. He would never be able to put down his magic, his knowledge, his tricks and jokes for the sake of becoming a mindless warrior. It was not the thrill of bloodshed that excited him. It was the battle of wits, the struggle against a mental giant that made fighting worth it to Loki. But those were not important values to Asgard. There was no room in his realm for a trickster. There was no room in his realm for "_him_" at all. The only one who truly admired his skills was his own mother. No one enjoyed Loki's company. No one went out of their way to greet him, no one was even brave enough to approach when he was alone.

Loki doubled over, sobbing angry tears into his knees in the blackest pits of empty space. He could not escape reality in his dreams, and he could not escape his dreams in reality. The weakest parts of him begged to end his pathetic existence.

'_It would be so easy,' _he told himself._ 'All I would have to do is release the shield. Drop my magic and it would be all over._'

His resolve crumbled away. He was going to do it. The raven haired prince tightened his fists. A hole smaller than an eye of a needle was all it would take to puncture the barrier between him and the suffocating cosmos. He held his breath. One. Two. Six minutes passed. His vision flashed white behind his eyelids. Nine. Eleven. No pulse. In the white, he saw a shadow. Loki allowed himself an empty smile. Siv fell to her knees. Loki approached her. Towered over her.

"Please," she whispered. "Please don't do it."

"Why not?" he snapped. "Why? Tell me. What does it matter to a ghost? What does my irrelevant life mean to you, anyway?"

It brought Loki a sick sort of satisfaction to see her cower before him. To see the tears welling in her eyes. To see her swallow the sobs in her throat. To watch her crumble as he crumbled.

"I am your _god_!" he bellowed. "You have no say in this. Just stand there and watch. I want you to watch. Watch me kill myself for you." His words were poison, burning away at both their hearts.

Siv shook her head. "Loki," she squeaked, "I want you to live because –!"

She paused.

Loki's glare intensified. Did she not have anything to say? Was she really going to stand by and let him murder himself?

"I am greedy!" she finally sobbed. "I am greedy! I want you to live because I want to see you again, when I live once more. I want to grow with you. I want to experience life with you. Your life is not irrelevant. You are the only reason why I want to come back. You are a god – I am a soul. Do you really want to see which of us will live longer?"

The raven haired prince could practically hear the shatter of his own heart. Did she mean to say she would outlive even him? All along, she was just waiting for time to pass? Were there others? Her talk of her own greed, how she wanted to be with him, how sincere was it? If she believed he would die before her, then why bother at all?

"Shut up!" he snarled bitterly.

Siv gasped.

Loki sneered at her. "Shut up! Calling yourself a soul, a life force! How arrogant of you! You are nothing more than a ghost, unable to move on to your next life! What is so important about me, then? You pathetic excuse for a girl, you're probably old enough to be my grandmother! How old are you? How many others have you loved? How many others have you left behind, forgotten?"

Siv let out a pained moan. After all the centuries she spent trying to come back to him, he was rejecting her. It was enough to make one go mad with grief. But she kept trying. Even if he gave up on her, she would not give up on him. Not yet. "I'm sorry, Loki. I'm sorry everything ended so poorly. I'm sorry every time you searched, you found the wrong one. I'm sorry –"

"YOUR APOLOGIES MEAN NOTHING!" Loki screamed.

Siv stared up at him in fright.

"YOUR APOLOGIES ARE WORTHLESS! YOU ARE AN AGELESS SOUL? FINE. THEN COME BACK. BECAUSE YOUR APOLOGIES MEAN NOTHING IF YOU CANNOT COME BACK. THOSE PROMISES YOU MADE TO ME. ALL THE TIMES I DREAMT OF YOU. THEY ALL MEAN NOTHING. YOU ARE A LIAR! JUST FIND A BODY AND COME BACK!" His voice cracked along with his anger. He fell beside her, a child once more. Ugly tears stained his face.

Siv crawled over and threw her arms around him, wailing with relief. He was not rejecting her. He was scared of losing her.

"It all means nothing," he whispered, breaking. "You swore you would save me thrice. How can you do that if you are still dead? Did you even try to come back? Or did I just go to all the wrong places?"

"I tried," she sobbed. "I truly did. You have no idea how hard it is to keep memories. I wish I could come back in my old body. In the body I found you. But it doesn't work that way. I'll keep trying. I promise I will."

"Your promises are worthless," he repeated weakly.

Siv held him tight and smothered his young face with kisses. "I know," she cried. "I know. But don't give up on me. And don't give up on yourself, either, or they really will mean nothing." Loki nodded half-heartedly in his childish form. Why did his mind insist that he be young each time he saw her?

But he was ripped from his meeting with Siv. His body cried out in anguish. Starving himself of oxygen, forcing his body to suffocate itself, Loki could not continue like this. He gasped, gulped air, choked and coughed. His fingers and face were blue and numb. His chest burned with fire. He clutched his ribs, crying out in pain. How was he still alive? How did his magic extend beyond himself after asphyxiation? But it was not his magic. He did not recognize this residual feeling. Something made him want to believe it was Siv.

Siv.

Loki wiped his face. Was it real? The weakest parts of him argued it was his imagination. That she was always his imagination. But he did not care for the weakest parts of him now. He calmed down, reclaimed his values of life, and headed back to Asgard.

Besides, there was still plenty of work to do. He still had a mother to care for, and a father to prove wrong. And then there was always Thor to keep him occupied. His brother was acting worse by the hour. Soon, he would be the most arrogant, cocksure prince Asgard had ever seen. Yes, Loki had _plenty_ of work to do. But where to start?

The raven haired prince laid claim to the main library once more. It had been some time since he last shut himself away here. He rubbed his palms together. What should he start with first? Which spells? He ran his finger over the spines of the oldest books.

"Here," he whispered to himself. He plucked a thick volume from the corner of the lowest shelf. It slapped against the table with a heavy thud, expelling a thick cloud of dust. The raven haired prince opened to the first page and muttered quietly as he read.

Several surprisingly long years passed. What hope Loki walked away with dwindled dangerously low once again. Despite having told himself there was still plenty to live for, he found it harder and harder to find solace in faith alone. He could not help it. What was a man to think? She'd spoken words his greedy, hidden heart wanted to hear. He desired to be needed. Desired to be front and center of someone's attention. Desired having such control over someone that they fought the current of nature to be with him. But because she said exactly those things, he still could not trust the Siv he saw in the darkness of nowhere. There was still a regrettably large chance that she was a figment of his imagination. That perhaps he had in fact attached himself to a husk and placed his own feelings inside the idea of this girl.

And because of that, Loki could not stop the sudden urges he had to cut off his own life force. He lost track of how many times he drowned his breath, threatened his vital vessels, taunted the vacuum of space. But nothing wielded the results he searched for. Just once more, he wanted to see her. Wanted to see what she would say this time. Wanted to know how much more she would beg and grovel. But Siv never again appeared, and one day Loki had his answer.

Siv was not real.

He could accept that.

_19:14_

_11.1.14_


	11. His Arrogance

"I will behave however I please!" Thor snarled angrily.

"You will _not_!" Odin snapped, towering over his son. "I'll not have any son of mine stomping around acting like a spoiled child! You are a prince, not a peasant! Start acting like one!"

Loki shook his head slowly. This was not the first argument he had witnessed, but it was by far the loudest. And by "witnessed", he meant "snuck in uninvited". Yes, Loki clung to the shadows in the corner of the chamber, unseen. He was spying. He could not help it; he had to know what was going on, exactly what was said. Secrets were not to be kept from the raven haired prince. But espionage on this level was dangerous. If Frigga knew of his presence, all would be well. Odin, however, was another matter. And then he would never hear the end of it from his atrocious brother.

"What are you going to do about it?" Thor laughed arrogantly. "Give the throne to Loki as my punishment?"

_'Now, that's just uncalled for,_' Loki thought with a frown.

"I might!" Odin threatened. "If it will pull your head out of your arse!"

"Odin!" Frigga admonished from his side. Kings were not supposed to use such language, especially if trying to prove a point to their hard-headed sons.

"Tell us, Mother!" the golden haired prince said, turning to Frigga. She rolled her eyes. "Who is right? Which one of us is in the wrong?"

"You are," Frigga retorted without hesitation. Thor snarled at her. She flashed him a hard look. "I did not raise you to fight like an animal," she countered. "Hush and listen to me."

Thor scoffed and turned away from her.

"Look at your mother when she is talking to you!" Odin barked.

Frigga shushed him as well. "Thor, your actions are repulsive. How dare you turn up your nose, after having spent all day torturing the poor servants, riling up the livestock, scaring half the court ladies to death! You ought to be ashamed of yourself. And you, husband, you are going about this all wrong. He is a soldier, but he is also your son. Be a father, not a commander. And while we are still in the same subject, Loki would make an excellent king."

The raven haired prince could not suppress a slight smile. At least she thought positively of his future. Frigga cast a quick glance to his corner and pursed her lips. Loki froze. She knew he was there.

"Now, I want both of you out! Thor, you go clean up your mess. That is your punishment. Apologize to the people you've upset, and –" A chicken tore through the room, screeching in terror. "– collect the chickens," Frigga sighed, rubbing her forehead.

Thor growled under his breath, scooping up the chicken and holding it by the feet. It squawked and fretted all the way down the hall until they could hear nothing more.

"He'll not do it," Odin scowled.

"You are not following my wishes either," Frigga murmured quietly.

Odin grunted and rubbed his face. "What are you punishing me for?"

Frigga pushed him out. "Give me some alone time before I snap." She smiled sweetly. Odin flinched and left.

It was silent for a moment, and then, "I hope you do not intend to stay there all day."

Loki dropped his shield, head hung. "Am I to be punished as well?" he asked.

Frigga sighed. "I cannot continue to let you sit in on these. It is damaging to your honor and to mine."

"If I was invited cordially to these family meetings, there would be no snooping."

"But you've done nothing wrong," Frigga smiled, casting him a look.

Loki flashed a thin smile. "Not today, I haven't," he answered. He looked at his feet. "I worry for him, Mother. For both of them. Father is tired, and Thor is ill-suited. He is still much more eager to trample around than focus on the inevitable future."

"Are you suggesting you are ready to take the position?" Frigga asked, thumb to her chin.

Loki held his palms up. "No, no, I am far from ready!" he said quickly. "But I am certainly more ready than he, from this exact moment."

Frigga clicked her tongue. "From this exact moment, I do not doubt it. Now go, before your father catches you."

Loki left the chambers, hardly surprised to see a trail of chicken feathers. A couple of frightened birds clucked around the corner. The raven haired prince sighed and gathered them up, cleaning Thor's mess. It was not the first time he had covered for his brother. It most certainly would not be the last.

҉

"I am so sick of that retched man still treating me like a child! I am obviously more worthy than my brother. Why does he insist on dragging this out? At least reveal it to us that _I_ am going to be the next king!" Thor paced in front of Sif and the Three, who had, in achievement to their efforts, become the Warriors Three. The golden haired prince was oblivious to their skeptical stares.

"I am hounded for everything I do! Everything! Loki is only scolded for his stupid magic tricks; I am ridden about my attitude, my posture, my language, my appetite, my armor!"

The audience refrained from commenting. They shared a singular thought: _'Loki is scolded far more harshly than you would ever be, Thor.'_

"Perhaps, we ought to go let off some steam somewhere," Fandral piped up. "Wrestle with giants, bother some trolls. Nothing gets you to feeling better like a nice fight."

"No, I have a better idea," Thor grinned.

Hogun quirked an eyebrow quietly.

"Let us go to Midgard. Strike a pose, knock down a bad king or two, be respected for the gods we are. As a treat to ourselves!"

"You just want someone to kiss your bruised ego," Sif smirked. Thor cast her a hard look. She did not flinch.

"Promise me some delicacies and I'll go with you," Volstaag said, patting his stomach. This trip in general did not sound pleasant, but if there was at least something worth snacking on, he would join.

"Fine food and fine women and plenty to drink. I know exactly where to go."

"Notice how he listed nothing for you," Fandral whispered to Sif. She elbowed him away; Fandral had a difficult time containing his chuckling.

They marched to Heimdall's observatory in a line behind the mighty Thor, who swung his mace at his side. Many times Hogun regretted gifting him that iron weapon. This was one of those times.

"Heimdall!" Thor shouted, approaching. Heimdall might have smiled.

"You ought to be kinder to your blood," the gatekeeper and overseer murmured.

"What was that?" the golden haired prince asked. He stopped before the door. The mace seemed to sway menacingly of its own accord. Heimdall eyed it.

"On a rampage, I see. Very well, then. But do not blame me later for your father's anger. You bring this on yourself. As always."

And with that, Heimdall whisked them away to Midgard. They landed in an acrid place off the coast of an island that called itself Great Britain. It was by far the worst town in existence: the air was heavy with sea salt and sewer rot and dead fish and men's sweat. The streets were unkempt and filled with horse droppings. Broken glass littered what cobblestone laid out along the road. Bar fights erupted at all hours of the day and night. Surely this town was abandoned by its king. Thor took in a deep whiff, smiling. "Smells like a man's town," he chuckled.

Sif rolled her eyes.

They strolled through the district, Thor jumping into every skirmish he could find. It was not difficult.

"Must you really attract so much attention to yourself?" Lady Sif asked. She kept to Thor's side, matching his haughty tromp with ease.

"Of course," he said smugly. This was pleasant. It took less than ten minutes before a crowd gathered behind them, cheering the golden haired prince forward. A group of followers was a nice addition to his task.

The Asgardians arrived in this place only moments ago, but they had since broken up three massive bar fights, a skirmish between a handful of scraggly teens, and stopped an infestation of pirates. The bandits in question lay in a crumpled heap on the wharf, groaning. Their ship was now a pile of rubble floating along gloomy waves. The grateful residents bowed to Thor, Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three. Thor held up his fist; the crowd cheered. They were the heroes of the day.

"Is it just me, or does Earth look a bit different to you?" said Fandral, looking around turn-of the-19th-century England.

Sif chuckled. "Well, it has been a thousand years. . ."

The portly warrior Volstaag sighed in exasperation. He remembered the last time he came to Midgard. The world he remembered was most certainly not like this. "Things change so fast here. You leave for a millennium, and it's like the whole neighborhood is gone. You there!" Volstaag asked, approaching a woman with plenty of excess avoirdupois. She smiled bashfully at him. "Could you direct us to a nice pub, where my friends and I may feast and rest?" She led them to a shabby place, but it glowed with warm light and from the windows poured the sound of merrymaking.

The five Aesir warriors sat themselves to a booth. They were sorely overdressed, appearing as if they'd walked straight out of a Shakespearean play. But no one paid them much attention. The pub was filled with drunkards and who could be troubled to question one's fashion sense when they themselves could not walk straight? A woman approached them, hair and bustle in shambles. She was tired but money forced her to continue on late into the night.

"What are you after?" she asked them, hardly questioning their appearance.

"Well," Fandral answered, turning on the charm, "I think I would like a drink of you."

She was hardly affected by his flirtations. "A bottle of rum for you, then," she responded, "and I would assume a keg of mead between the rest of you. Are you having anything, Miss?" she added, glancing at Lady Sif.

Sif grinned. "I'll drink more than at least two of these boys."

The servant nodded and sidestepped her way into the kitchen.

"She completely blew me off," Fandral exclaimed, mortified. "No one has ever done that! No one! Tell me, am I losing my charm?"

"You never had charm to begin with, dog," Hogun responded.

They laughed and carried on, enjoying the atmosphere. Excluding Thor, that is. He watched the kitchen door for a time, stroking his chin. There was something about her that just seemed. . . perfect. Not for him, but for someone else. But who? He could not shake the feeling, even as she returned to pass them their drinks. "What is your accent?" Thor asked. He knew full well what her accent was. She grew up with Norse on her tongue.

"My mum was English, father a Swede. Grew up there, moved here when he followed his job. Died shortly after. Quite the trip." She set down their mugs and rubbed her hands on her dress.

"Your eyes are incredible," Thor commented, sipping off the froth.

"Thank you kindly, sir, but your flattery will get you nowhere. I work in a bar. How many men do you think try to hit on me in one night?" Her eyes flitted to Fandral in mild boredom.

"All of them," Sif said.

"All of them," the girl repeated.

"Could you tell me what the chef is serving tonight?" Volstaag interrupted, unsure how to feel about Thor's interest in this human. Ignoring the fact that he held the plump human girl on his own knee. She was only a snack for later.

The servant chuckled, shaking her head. "That's not something you want to ask around here, Love. No one really knows what goes in the grinder, not even the cook. We're an abandoned town. I think you were the ones who took out those blasted pirates; you must realize that was not an uncommon occurrence. In a week's time, I'm willing to bet more will be taking over our little port. England, she doesn't care about us anymore. A small sacrifice for the good of the country." She gave a short laugh and turned away. "I have to get back to work now, or there will be no food for me tonight."

"Nordic," Thor murmured. He knew exactly who this servant girl was meant for.

But she never came back to check on the Asgardian warriors. They left only when the crowd thinned to nothing and the sun prepared to rise once more. The five strutted out into the night, full of stale beer and questionable meat, but they were content. Fandral left with no women, sorely disappointed. Volstaag's own treat disappeared sometime earlier when she realized her husband was around. _That_ was a pleasant experience.

"Heimdall," Thor said, looking up at the lightening sky. Nothing happened. "Just once I'd like him to answer to me," Thor sighed.

Hogun stared grimly into the heavens.

"Don't even open your mouth," Fandral warned him, drunkenly putting a finger to Hogun's lips.

From around the corner, a girl shrieked. Thor, believing himself the hero, rushed to see what the commotion was all about. The servant girl from the pub was chased down the alley by shadows – two scoundrels from the ship who seemed to have escaped the Asgardian wrath. It was five gods against two pathetic humans; the battle was short lived. They easily took the scraggly ruffians down and threw them over the pier.

"Thank you," the woman breathed, clutching her chest. If she was in shambles at the beginning of the night, there were no words to describe her now.

"It is no matter. I would do anything to save a beautiful woman," Fandral replied, holding out his hand to her. She took it and pulled herself up, but otherwise ignored him. He frowned, offended.

"Tell me," Thor said suddenly, "Do you have a significant other in your life?"

"No?" she replied, surprised by his forwardness.

"You do now." Thor took her by the wrist as the Bifrost opened. He had just kidnapped a human.

A lady with dark brown hair and blue eyes.

҉

"But you cannot just bring a human on a little sightseeing trip through Asgard!"

"This is a bad omen, Thor."

"Please, it is hardly as serious as an _omen_. She is what my brother yearns for. At least, if she is not what he wants on the inside, she is what he wants on the outside. Consider this girl a present for him."

"So _that's_ what that 'significant other' question was about?"

"Is he still going on about this soul? Has he not grown up?"

"Look, she's coming 'round."

Sprawled across the floor, the servant girl groaned and rubbed her face. She fainted on her way through the Bifrost.

"Thor, I am not often angered by your actions, but the way you treat this woman is enough to make me want to hurt you. Say much more and I'll break your jaw."

"You've irritated even Sif with this! Just take her back, before she knocks your block off."

"Thank you, Fandral."

"Fine, then, stop making such a fuss. Heimdall, return her before she awakens fully."

"I cannot comply with your childish requests any longer. The Bifrost is not just some toy to jump worlds. You have ruined this woman's life. If she returns now, she will have been missing for days, weeks. Take responsibility."

Thor ignored Heimdall's words outright and came to the girl's side. "Are you awake enough to stand on your own?" he asked her. She fully opened her eyes and stared in terror at him. At the five behind him. At the strange golden room flooded with bright light. It took amazing effort on her part not to faint again. Her words trembled in her throat. She could not respond to him. Thor moved to pick her up from the floor. She smacked him across the face.

"What was that for?" he laughed in surprise.

"Leave her be," Heimdall said. His voice was low, intimidating. She shrank away from the gatekeeper. He turned his gaze to her. In his strange eyes, she could see a great mass of galaxies, displayed in such a beautiful array that she could not even begin to imagine what they were. "Tell no one of this woman you have so selfishly brought into this realm. She must continue her life here in Asgard. If any of you see her, say nothing. Do not converse. Do not make eye contact. Do not think about speaking of this. Bury it in your memory. Remember that I am the overseer. If I even _suspect_ you dare repeat the events of this night to anyone, I will cast you off to a deserted rock in the forgotten pits of the aether, not of any realm, and you will die there."

He was met only with a scowl from Odin's son, but they nodded. Lady Sif cast one last wavering glance toward the shivering mortal, wondering her fate. The five bowed their heads and returned to their homes in grim silence.

"They are gone," he murmured, turning a much kinder eye to her. "Clarice, daughter of Erik and Elizabeth Andersson of England, born in the year 1781, you are in a place much stranger than your dreams."

She stared blankly at him. _'By all means, sir, my dreams are nearly as strange as you,'_ she could not help but think.

"You are, by the actions of a man who is no more a man than a boy, forced to live the rest of your life here in Asgard. I recommend not talking to anyone either. Stay to the outskirts. Live in the shadows. You will age much faster than the rest of us. When fifty years run its course, your life will have been lived out to its old age. We'll have not physically matured a day. You are human; we are gods."

"So I just . . . find myself a new life?" she asked, baffled.

Heimdall might have smiled. From seemingly out of nowhere, he presented her with a simple Asgardian dress, plain and inconspicuous. "The Asgardian palace will hire you as a maid, hardly different from your life on Earth. You will tend to whatever they tell you. Do not draw attention to yourself. Pretend you have been there all your life if you must."

Clarice stood, taking the dress from him. Her body felt numb.

"And another thing," Heimdall said, voice a touch more playful. "Women of Asgard do not wear bustles. You are relieved of your duty to wear one, if you feel the need to relieve yourself of it."

She nodded and stumbled across the great bridge, clutching the dress with trembling hands. Below her, an ocean of black water churned and fell away to nothingness. Just when she thought the world was supposed to be round, not flat.

҉

"Come on," Loki muttered. "Come on, you can do it. . . There!" he grunted.

Half of his chambers were replaced with the cosmos, inky black. Distant stars twinkled faintly, but none provided with even enough light to read by. These were not Asgard's stars. The raven haired prince opened a window to another galaxy, another realm perhaps. It was a beautiful sight. This was one of his many personal pockets of space. And it sat right here amidst his books. The edges of the window trembled, threatening to break the seal and swallow half of the palace wing. Blood dripped from Loki's nostrils. He dropped the magic, shoving the cosmos back into its own corner of whatever universe it came from. He wiped his nose on the back of his hand . . . then combusted into a cloud of golden dust.

"What a pity," Loki sighed from his desk. "It was nearly a success." He marked a few notes in his ledger and set down his quill, rubbing his forehead.

However, the raven haired prince was pleased with his results. He'd opened a portal to another realm, in his bedroom to boot. Wide enough to stretch from floor to ceiling and across nearly the entire length of his bedchamber window. And the shield protecting him from the vacuum was near perfect, until the edges flickered at the end. And he'd done it all with a doppelgänger. Not to mention he hid the entire show from Heimdall. Loki was growing stronger by the hour. It was wonderful.

But Loki was tired. The raven haired prince worked without sleep. Currently, he observed the observatory, tied up the last of the free-roaming goats, and comforted his mother who still wept for Baldur after having a few drinks. And those were only the normal bodies. Dozens of other doppelgängers meandered through Asgard, as horses, as salmon, as birds, as bears, as wolves, as bilgesnipe, as lightning beasts, as trees. He was at once cataloguing every instance that happened in Asgard, and charted the minds of every creature he contacted. Even Frigga's.

Something was strange with the Bifrost, Loki noted as he retired to his bed. He finally made sense of it all. Time was not distorted by any Aesir. It was the fault of the bridge itself. The energy used to transport a being from one end of space to the other caused the Bifrost to burn a hole through the fabric of time. Each trip the Bifrost made, the fire burned a bit hotter, took a little more time from the timeline, simultaneously slowed down Asgard and sped up Midgard.

'_Asgard could use some speeding up,' _Loki thought, resting against his pillows. They all lived long enough lives as it were. He fell into an unrestful sleep, plagued once again by the threat of war and destruction and bloodshed.

_21:47_

_12.1.14_


	12. The Traitor

From the distance came a great galloping. It was Odin, in all of his kingly splendor. The All-Father dismounted his eight legged horse and strode up to the gatekeeper and overseer. "Yes, milord," Heimdall said. Odin could not relieve his sour expression to offer a greeting to his most trusted.

"I suppose you were the one who sent Thor out of the realm to throw his tantrum," Odin sighed.

Heimdall nodded solemnly. "Forgive me, milord, I thought it best to let him through. I am not his father, and thus have no right to discipline him. I also worried that he might strike his weapon to destroy the gate."

The All-Father rubbed his temples with dismay. "Thank you, my friend. I appreciate your consideration. He has returned in better spirits, I presume." It was silent for a moment. "Who came through the Bifrost earlier?" he questioned slowly.

"Thor, Lady Sif, Volstaag, Fandral, and Hogun."

"That is all?"

"That is all."

It was quiet again.

"Is something wrong, milord?" Heimdall asked.

"I thought I saw someone else come across the bridge. A mortal."

Heimdall shook his head slowly. "I saw no mortal. There is nothing in all the nine realms that can shield itself from my vision," Heimdall assured him. "If there was anything less than Asgardian here, it was likely disposed of the moment someone set eyes on it."

Odin nodded slowly, still unconvinced. "I request that you inform me immediately if that statement changes." The king was aging. His eye was losing its spark, his hair its color, his body its youth. He mounted his steed once more and made his way back to the palace.

Heimdall closed his eyes. It was highly unlikely the All-Father came out to the observatory just to see who traveled through the Bifrost. Thor was still acting harshly, after all that. Skipping his training to make a point, the overseer noted. And something came up between the king and his wife. But perhaps in his old age, Odin really did need to check who landed in his kingdom. Soon, he would have to name his successor. Loki did everything in his power to show his father that he was the most worthy son. Thor was so oblivious it was almost painful.

Heimdall searched for the human. Clarice busied herself washing dishes in the kitchen, mopping the halls, dusting the statues. He was quietly delighted to see that she kept herself as busy as if she was still on Earth, despite all her cursing under her breath. She seemed to gravitate toward Loki's wing of the palace. It made the overseer uneasy. Heimdall wished the Tesseract was still in his care. It could have provided him with answers about Clarice, even if he did not know its language. He had come so close to decoding its patterns, all those years ago. But he did not argue with his king's decision to let it rest in Midgard. They all rightfully feared a more pressing matter.

Still, even Heimdall found himself thinking back on the cube. He remembered a few instances where it reacted to the raven haired prince. Were they positive reactions or negative? Was it trying to communicate with him? Was it responding to something else? It was all so frustrating. The Tesseract was far from a crystal ball, but the overseer saw many things inside it that others would not understand.

And then there was the matter of the princes. What happened between the brothers? Was it Baldur's death that pushed them apart? As children, they argued and fought over petty things. Now young adults, their arguments increased in number, seemingly without cause. Siblings in every realm acted similarly; why did it matter to Heimdall that these two were no different? Because he could not see who caused Baldur's death. Not only did he not see Loki; he did not see Thor, either. Things were getting darker and darker here in Asgard.

He turned his attention once again to Clarice. She quietly stood by Loki's bedside, checking to see if he was asleep. "This human had better be the one to slow his descent," Heimdall muttered to himself. "I lied to my king for her."

But as much as he wished, Heimdall could not devote his attention entirely to the royal family and this new addition. There were signs. Signs everywhere. Signs that an ill-fated prophecy threatened to become reality. The overseer could not let that happen. He went below the observatory to his living quarters, and from the mess, he retrieved a giant old tome. It was covered in dust, left untouched since the Queen returned it to him all those centuries ago. The overseer opened it slowly, searching for something hidden. Perhaps he'd buried a secret in his own writing.

҉

The first thing wrong with Loki's morning was that it came much too early. The second would have been his pounding headache, as if his body was trying to warn him of something. The third was the fault of an impossibly noisy maid who cursed under her breath and grumbled to herself as she worked oil into his bedroom door. Opening and closing, opening and closing. When she was finished antagonizing the oak slabs, she plodded across his ornate floor rug to draw the drapes. Loki quirked an eyebrow. The pull became a thin snake that coiled around her wrist. She started but did not scream. "Sorry," she muttered to it, trying to remove the snake from her arm without hurting the creature. She freed herself and practically jumped away from the huge windows.

"People do sleep," Loki said, voice sharp as he sat up.

The maid squeaked and bowed her head several times. "Forgive me, I did not think you were awake."

"No one could sleep with the noise you make," he grunted, turning the snake back into a pull chord. She apologized a few more times and gathered her cleaning rags. She looked ready to throw herself from the highest window. Loki rolled his eyes. Out of all the servants in this palace, he was awoken by the mouse.

Loki paused. Was it a trick of the light? His insomnia was getting out of hand, as was this repulsive headache. He groaned and held his head. Suddenly, cool hands graced his temples. Loki sighed; he hadn't even noticed her approach. This was certainly a terrible morning.

"Let me see," she murmured. All traces of a shy, mousy servant were wiped clean. She truly seemed concerned for his health. "A fever," she deduced.

Loki scoffed. "Some nurse you are, I know what a fever is. Long term sleep deprivation often has that effect."

"Then sleep," she said simply.

The Asgardian prince rolled his eyes. "If it were that simple, I would be doing it –"

Loki stood quickly. "Siv," he said weakly. No wonder this maid approached so casually. No one else on this blasted rock would have even come close to him in such a state, especially after that snake bit. Hatred flooded Loki's heart. After decades of trying to reach out to her again, trying to prove she was either real or fake, here she was.

He stormed at her, a terrible fury boiling in his blood. The servant had no time to react. He had her by the wrist in one hand and by her throat in the other. He pulled her close, grip on her tiny neck firm but not crushing. Those eyes. Her eyes. Ice blue, haunting, a memory Loki tried so desperately to purge from his tormented mind. "Get out," he hissed, staring through her. She pulled away from him. His grasp was unrelenting. "I said, _get out_."

"I cannot if you do not let go," she whispered, terrified.

"I am not talking to you!" he snapped, looking at the girl straight on. "I am talking about that soul hiding in your body, _torturing_ me with its existence. Who brought you here?"

She was quiet, unable to respond.

"TELL ME!" he bellowed.

She slapped him with her free hand with all her might. Tears welled in her eyes. "I do not know!" she shouted. "I do not know! I was. . . I was kidnapped, told I was some sort of bride, brought up in a great beam of light and then told I was a – a prisoner here, some place called Asgard, I – I don't know where I am, I don't know who you people are, calling yourselves gods and dressing like you all live in olden Europe –!" A sob escaped her.

Loki released her. She fell to the ground, wailing. She'd done an excellent job of doing exactly what the golden-eyed man told her not to. She stayed like that for some time as her attacker paced his room fervently. Slowly, she quieted.

"Siv."

"I'm sorry?" she sniffed.

"Your name. Is it Siv?"

"No. My name is Clarice. My mum was English, father a Swede."

"Then you mean nothing to me," Loki said. And then, "Swede. Of Nordic descent?"

Clarice nodded slowly, not understanding its importance. The other man asked her something similar the night before.

Loki completely flipped his character. He knelt before her, eyes full of remorse. He actually appeared sorry for hurting her. "My name is Loki, of Asgard," he said slowly. He searched for something. Clarice did not know what. "Tell me, do you dream?"

She blinked. "You Asgardians ask about the strangest things." Clarice leaned away from him, untrusting.

He smiled at her ruefully. "It is a terrible habit of ours. But, my question still remains unanswered."

Clarice lowered her gaze and gripped a fistful of her skirt. "I do not dream. At least, not often. When I was younger I used to dream about this boy, a spirit in the forest. I would chase after him, and every time I could get close enough to touch him, he vanished in a cloud of golden smoke. But I've outgrown those silly dreams. I need to work and earn money to live."

"But you have a place to live," Loki interjected. "You live here, in the palace. Your room and board is your pay for cleaning."

Clarice froze. This was not England – likely not even Earth. She needed to learn how things worked here. "Yes, that's right," she nodded.

"You're lying. You have absolutely no idea how things are run here," Loki chuckled. Contempt flashed on his face for a brief moment. "And your humanity is painfully obvious. I would guess you arrived here only last night."

"Yes," Clarice admitted, bowing her head. This was it. She was going to be banished from this place, left out to die on an abandoned rock. A captive in a strange place with no one to turn to. Loki stood. Clarice shut her eyes, fearing the worst.

"I will not reveal you, but I want to know how you got here, and by whose hand. As of this moment forth you are not to leave my sight. If I leave my room, you will stay here. Be quiet. Make no sound. The doors will be locked and no one may enter, which means you could not escape even if you tried. Clarice of England, you are my pet, my personal maid. I will work you until you die."

Pure rage. That was the best way to describe him. Poison flowed from his words like a river. Loki had not shown anger like this to anyone living. Not yet. Clarice froze in shock. This man was either a lunatic or an incredible actor. Likely both.

He stood and began to undress. Clarice gasped, fearing for her innocence. "Are you going to dress me too, maid?" he chuckled menacingly. Clarice scurried away from him and hid amongst the drapes like a child.

"Scoundrel!" she called out. He only laughed. This was much too much for the poor woman. _'I may as well throw myself from this window if I were ever brave enough,'_ she thought helplessly.

He dressed slowly. Purposefully. He wanted to test how long it would take for her to peek. But she did not. The prince mused that if he left quietly, she would stand in the drapes all morning waiting for him to finish. And so, he left.

The raven haired prince had several important duties on his agenda. None of them required his presence in Asgard. Loki created himself a doppelgänger and let it loose in the palace. Only one. He still had a few other bodies roaming around Asgard, but he could not risk anyone finding out he was missing. More than one princely body in the palace today led to interrogation. Loki shook his head, letting the live feed of information the doppelgänger collected run as background noise.

The true prince found himself a dark room and hid away. It was an old room the princes used to use for their lessons as young boys. Loki fondly placed his hand on his old desk. Baldur never joined for these; it was only Loki and Thor. The raven haired prince brought his fist down quickly, turning the wooden desk into splinters. Even the mighty Thor would have been impressed. He took the smallest slivers and slowly pushed them under his skin. It was painful, yes, but would not last for long. His healing threads sewed the skin back together, sealing the wooden shards in place. The process took a few hours, but was crucial to the next step in his plan. Finally, the scarification was done. Loki discarded his Asgardian dress, settling for much more drab a garment. He slung it over his hips and admired his handiwork. He was still missing a piece of his "costume", but that was easily taken care of.

At that moment, the handle was tried. Loki stared up in shock. Who would dare come in here? This was a private room.

Suddenly, the door flew off its hinges. A beast stood in the doorway, towering over him. It flashed a dark smile.

Loki gulped. _'Oh no,'_ he thought bitterly.

A short time later, the All-Mother eased down the hall. It was much quieter now. She could have sworn she heard a few loud noises down here. She was willing to bet her sons were at it again. How many times must they be scolded? The hall echoed with scuffling. A door slammed shut at the end of the hall. She heard muffled growling. "Boys?" Frigga called. She tried the handle.

Locked. Silence.

Frigga tried the handle again. The door opened and she stepped inside. "I remember this room," she murmured fondly. She sat against a rickety old table. For a long moment, the All-Mother reveled in an old memory. The warmth flooded over her. The place, which was now deserted and bare and cold, was once bright and warm. Yes, this room was always warm. Too warm. Stifling in the summer. So why was it cold now? It was so cold that it reminded the Queen of ice. In fact, she could see her breath.

Frigga stood quickly and armed herself with the sword at her hip. "Who is here?" she called out to the shadows. Nothing responded. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed. But she could feel something. A dark energy shrouded the corners.

She then noticed that Loki's desk had been smashed to pieces. It was rubbish now. Hardly worth fixing. But the All-Mother fixed it anyway, still wary of the empty room. The desk creaked and groaned as it returned to its old shape. A strange marking appeared on the surface of the table. A symbol. Frigga gasped sharply. It was the Jotun rune for death.

She spun on her heel, but it was too late. A Frost Giant was upon her. A shorter one, only a foot soldier, but it still towered seven heads above her. It smiled at her, blood colored eyes gleaming in the reflection of Frigga's blade. "What do you want with my son?" she spat. "You'll not take him from me! You, who cast him like a stone!"

But the beast did not reply, only grinned. It swung its arm like a bat, sending Frigga into a wall. She hit it with a sickly thud, and collapsed. The giant then opened a portal on the floor, dropping itself into the realm from whence it came.

Sometime later, Loki emerged in the room. "Is someone in here? I heard a noise," he called out tentatively. Frigga groaned from the floor, struggling to pull herself upright. "Mother!" he gasped, racing to help her up. "Mother, what happened? Who did this to you? You are bleeding!" he rushed.

"Get your father," she struggled out, holding a hand to her forehead. The cut resealed itself with her magic, but left some nasty discoloring. "Get your father," she repeated. "And Heimdall as well."

"But Mother," Loki started.

"Go!" she shouted.

The prince bit his lip and darted off, searching for the two.

Frigga stumbled over to Loki's desk. She held back a sob. There was no time to weep now. The All-Mother collected herself and committed the image of the Jotun to memory: his eyes, his smile, his scars, his height, his weight, his breath pattern. Heimdall would need this momentarily. It disgusted the Queen that she was not able to hold her own against such a petty warrior, no matter what realm he hailed from. She was supposed to be a Queen, not a mistress.

A few short moments later, both men burst through the door, Loki trailing behind.

The room at once erupted with words, with questions, with threats to the attacker. It overwhelmed the All-Mother. "Silence, husband!" she shouted. Odin quieted but did not calm. "It was the work of one," she whispered, motioning to Loki's desk. The elders seemed to forget about the prince's presence; he looked between their shoulders and gasped. Frigga looked up at him quickly. She opened her mouth to tell him to leave, but there was no point now. The All-Mother gazed at him with a worried frown.

"If I may," Heimdall asked, reaching for the Queen's head. He touched her and claimed all of her memories over this event, specifically the things she noticed. He held the vision inside of him for a time, before releasing them back to Frigga. They were committed to his memory as well. "It bothers me that this foot soldier bears such striking resemblance to Laufey," the overseer said. Frigga nodded.

"What bothers me," Odin growled, "was that you knew nothing of this event, Heimdall. Dare I accuse you of betraying me?"

Heimdall shook his head solemnly. "No, milord. It seems the Frost Giants have found a way to hide themselves from me."

"That is rather unfortunate and all," Loki spoke up from between them, "but would someone mind explaining to me why my desk is marked? What do the Jotuns want with me? Why is my childhood scored with the promise of death?" He trembled slightly, staring at it with grave fear. The elders looked between each other with quiet dread.

҉

"Like Laufey, hmm?" the ice beast chuckled. The sound was strange to his ears and felt like gravel on his throat. This was the first time he had spoken in such a body. The Jotun shook his head and trailed behind a group of warriors in the snow. The world around him was black and cold. Life sucking. Joy draining. The wind howled like an abandoned baby, flurries of snowflakes clinging to his back. He was shackled to his comrade beside him. Had to make it look real, after all. The troupe paraded him past seemingly forgotten ruins. It took a bit of concentration for the beast to notice the eyes that gleamed in the darkness, the shadows that moved.

"Move!" a foot soldier snarled, tugging on his shackles. He fell heavily on his chest, and struggled to get back up.

"What do we have here?" came a voice from deep inside a broken throne room. It reminded the beast of bone shards grating against one another.

"A traitor," the beast answered, searching the throne for the source of its voice. "And one with a mission."

"They tell me you fell from Asgard," the voice said. Its body leaned forward, examining the betrayer.

He nodded.

The king smiled. "Welcome to Jotunheim," he chuckled darkly.

The beast was unshackled and he stood straight, admiring the king. "I have a proposition to make," he spoke.

The king laughed. "A proposition, you say! Well, that is wonderful. How do we know you'll not betray us as well?"

A heavy fist smashed into the traitor's jaw. He fell into the snow once more. The others laughed.

_13:06_

_13.1.14_


	13. Blood and Birch

Toward dusk, Loki crossed paths with Thor and Thor's friends. They cast him a wary eye; he merely smiled. So it was one of them who brought that worthless human to Asgard. Did Odin not suspect anything? The raven haired prince delighted in thinking the All-Father was becoming as pathetic as a mortal. Hogun was especially tense in his presence.

"My, you're looking grimmer than usual, old friend," Loki said cheerfully. "Is something the matter?" Hogun was silent. "I received your little present," Loki continued, beaming. He turned, looking at each of them. Thor narrowed his eyes. Sif shuddered. "You are quite lucky that in his old age, Father has blinded himself to what a reckless boy you are."

"Shut your mouth, Loki," Thor snarled.

Loki quirked a peculiar grin. "Was it not you who kidnapped that Midgardian? Left her here to either die or be found and murdered? She is lucky I was the one to discover her. Or, maybe she isn't. I am forgiving on most days."

Thor roared at him.

"Animalistic," Loki sneered.

Heimdall approached. "What is going on here?" he said coolly. His lack of expression was truly more terrifying than if he had been boiling with rage. Everyone but the princes shrank back under his stare.

"Ah, good evening, Heimdall. Relieved of your post today?" Loki asked.

Thor did not answer.

"Your silver tongue will work on me not now or ever," Heimdall said flatly. He could have been glaring at Thor. It was always hard to tell. Thor could not withhold the tiniest of smirks. "Do not think I am gaming, boy," Heimdall growled.

"I know you are not gaming," replied the elder brother, "That's why it is more amusing. What are you going to tell my father? You let a mortal through the Bifrost, and made me leave her here? Come now, you may be his most trusted, but you'll not receive praise with that."

"Oh and I'm sure you would know all about Father's praise," the younger brother countered. "You kiss up to him in everything you do. You could not live a day in your life without earning some kind of recognition. You only care about being noticed, not priming yourself to be the future king. You call yourself a prince? Hardly more than a soldier."

Thor turned on Loki, sneering. "At least I _can_ earn Father's praise. I was always the strongest one. Even before Baldur died, I knew I was going to be the one on the throne. No matter what you do, you will always be second best to me. You are the runt of the litter. Tiny and weak, relying on trickery to kill your opponent. Where is the honor in deceit? What praise does that deserve?"

"Weak? You think me weak, Thor? While you spend your days causing fights, wrestling and killing beasts, you've no magical strength at all. You've got a bit of lightning to make a show, but so what? You cannot use it for anything. You cannot do anything with it. Your gift from father, your 'title' is worthless. So much for 'God of Thunder'. The only thunder you can make is when you throw a tantrum. Do not forget that Mother taught me everything she knows. You couldn't protect yourself from me even if your life depended on it. I am truly stronger than you."

"Oh really, have you not heard my nickname? The 'Mighty' Thor? _You_, puny, pathetic, Little Loki the Outcast, you think you could destroy me?"

"No, Thor. I _know_ I could destroy you."

"Well, _brother_, let's see how tough you really are!" Thor gripped his mace, that oft-used gift received years ago, and swung it at Loki's head. He intended to kill. Loki vanished in a cloud of golden smoke and dust. "Already cowering behind the wall, Loki?" Thor shouted.

"_I do not cower_," he hissed from behind, a poison tipped dagger held to his brother's neck. It only nicked the skin; a crimson bead of blood trickled from the tiny wound. Not even Baldur would have been infected. Loki scoffed in contempt, ducking under a meaty swing. This Loki was different. He seemed darker, more eager to spill blood than the doppelgänger. It was as if this prince lived another lifetime before this fight. "I am impressed by your speed, Thor. A giant like you shouldn't move this fast. However – I am much faster than you will ever be."

Thor roared loudly. The walls and glass and body of every Asgardian present vibrated with the fury in his voice. No one had the courage to break up the deep-rooted anger that separated the two brothers. They stood quietly, watching as the two clashed again and again and again. Finally, Thor managed to judge Loki's attack pattern. He flung his little brother into the wall opposite him. Ribs cracked audibly. Loki spat blood, a vicious smile gracing his thin lips. A few splinters glittered in their red paint on the floor. At once, Thor was upon him, holding Loki up with only the mace at his neck.

"Are you going to finish me off?" he asked playfully, struggling to breathe.

Thor had half a mind to do so. He was bleeding from several wounds. His body ached as if he'd been trampled by a thousand heavy-footed Lightning Beasts. Loki managed to land several vicious blows, much to Thor's chagrin. To admit Loki was a fierce opponent wounded the mighty Aesir's pride more than his body. If Thor ended this battle once and for all, there would be no one else to challenge him. But this was his brother. He could not kill his blood, no matter how angry. Ignoring the Baldur incident. How was he to know the knife was poisoned?

Besides, Mother and Father would be upset.

"No," he finally said.

"Wrong answer," Loki hissed. He could not pull himself from the wall, but he could still use his magic. Thor wheezed. He staggered backward, clutching his chest. Loki fell to the ground in a crumpled heap, but even that could not break his concentration. Thor's heart was going to burst from psychic pressure.

"Did Mother teach you this as well?" Thor rasped on his knees.

Loki hesitated for only a moment; Thor hurled himself at his kin. The sheer weight was enough to make Loki cry out in pain. He had not concentrated on healing himself throughout the battle. His bones protruded into his lungs. It was agony.

"_BOYS_!"

Loki and Thor halted, looking up.

"All-Mother!" Fandral said immediately, drawn back into reality. The other bystanders instantly relaxed in her presence.

"My Queen," Heimdall nodded.

"You did nothing to stop this, Heimdall?" she shouted, furious.

"It was not my battle to stop," he admitted.

Frigga clicked her tongue loudly at him. "What in creation is going on here? Thor, stand up immediately!" she demanded, eyes scathing. Thor pulled himself to his feet with some difficulty. Loki could not. He rolled himself onto his side and clutched his chest with both hands. Healing magic threaded his wounds, searing hot. The wounds closed haphazardly; Loki was not going to be able to heal completely by himself. He, too, stood on shaking legs before his mother.

"Explain," she ordered. Loki cast a sideways glance at Thor. Thor looked away, irritated.

"We were just letting off some steam, Mother," Loki assured her, smiling faintly. Blood dripped from his lips. He clutched his torso as if holding everything in place. He likely still was. "It was a jest we both took too far."

"Too far!" Frigga scoffed in disbelief. "You call this a jest taken too far? You are both beaten within an inch of your life! Thor, I heard you break your brother's bones, not to mention every piece of stonework in this hall! And you, Loki! I can only assume you let him get under your skin about something! What is it this time? If you give me another petty excuse, I will hang you both by your ears! You brought poison-tipped daggers? What is this?" the All-Mother asked, exasperated as she plucked one from Thor's abdomen.

Loki managed a cheeky grin. "Hardly life threatening, Mother, I promise. Although, it'll give him a terrible case of the runs later."

Frigga involuntarily let out a laugh. Thor groaned.

"You four," the queen said, collecting herself. Sif and the Warriors Three stood at attention. Frigga sighed and shook her head. "If this were a battlefield, would you have stood by and watched as these two tore each other apart?" They shook their heads one by one. "What would you have done?" she questioned.

"Pried the two away from each other," Volstaag said after a beat.

"Refocused them on the task at hand," Hogun added.

"Then why didn't you?" Frigga continued. "This is hardly a different scenario, just a different field. Next time, because there is _always_ a next time, be useful. Do not stand idly. Never stand idly. At the very least, if you cannot convince them, protect them." And with that, she sent them all off to their duties. Excluding her boys, of course, whom she sent off to the healers. They hobbled away, arms slung over one another's shoulder, leaning against their brother as they tried to walk as one three-legged beast. Frigga smiled remorsefully as she watched her sons leave. "I should have arrived earlier, to stop this."

"Do not trouble yourself about it," Heimdall said. "They are friendly in your presence, but I do not doubt they will return to their positions tomorrow."

"You are still here?" Frigga said as she swept a hand over the hall. Stone mended like flesh, returning to its original state. "Walk with me," she asked him. They walked through the palace in a stiff silence. "What were they arguing over this time?" she questioned once out of ear shot of any servants. After the incident earlier with the Jotun, Frigga wanted to avoid talk of the princes' unrest. As much as it could have been avoided, anyway.

Heimdall might have smiled. "Who is more worthy of the throne."

"This is the fourth time this month they've fought over this." She sighed. "Who would you pick to be king?"

"Neither." Heimdall thought for a bit. "You nor Odin will have to decide for a while yet. They are both still learning. Thor is brash and vengeful; Loki is quick-witted and passionate. Thor is strong-willed and naturally heroic; Loki is unforgiving and easily deterred. Only age will tell. They both have potential."

Frigga nodded. "I am relieved to hear you say this. Odin stays awake all hours of the night, mumbling to himself, pacing the same spot of the rug that I'm afraid it has worn thin. He knows time will approach quicker than he thinks. He is fearful. One will always be angry over the other's success. That is what keeps them expanding, progressing. Loki is only powerful in magic because Thor is powerful in physical strength. It is the same in reverse."

"Do you fear for them?"

"Oh, Heimdall, I always fear for them. They are my sons."

҉

"Do you enjoy her company, at least?"

"Thor, I am going to destroy you. . . As soon as I am healed."

Thor chuckled. "Where do you keep her? Don't tell me you locked her away in your room. She is a servant of the palace now, not your pet."

"Says you," Loki scoffed, rolling his eyes. He settled into the table as the healers placed glowing stones on his bare chest. They flickered with some inner light and cooled, turning to powder. The powder evaporated from his chest, skin and bones and organs healing themselves much less painfully than Loki's magic had done. Luckily they dissolved a majority of the splinters that remained embedded in his chest as well. He'd suspected those would be the most painful to remove. "She'll live and die quickly."

"So let her live," Thor interjected. His own wounds were healed and he sat up, rolling an arm in its socket.

Loki scoffed once more. "You have no say in this matter. She can no longer live because of your selfish desires."

"My selfish desire to make you happy?" Thor retorted, blood heating once more.

Loki merely stood and left, tunic still slung over the side of a wall partition. As he walked, he noticed the tension amongst the servants. Bad news travelled quickly, it seemed. The halls vibrated with talk of a Jotun intruder. Loki mindlessly scratched another splinter out of his arm. He returned to his chambers, where he was stunned to see the captive servant asleep in his bed. It was certainly large enough to accommodate their slight selves, but no one other than he slept in his bed. He was not sure how to respond. Part of him seethed: a human was in _his_ bed. But another part of him was entertained: a _human_ was in his bed.

'_Better to bed a mortal than a horse, I suppose,_' he thought to himself in grim amusement. Clarice was his for the taking, Loki decided. She might as well be of use to him, in all ways. He slipped stealthily into the furs beside her, his blankets of choice. She made no noise. He was still shirtless, he realized. He forgot to collect his tunic from the healers.

'_Oh, well._' He propped his head in his hand and watched her for a time.

Clarice slept with her back to him. She seemed weary, even in sleep. She could not rest. Loki found himself brushing a bit of her hair away from her face. In some aspects, she very well could have been what his Siv would have grown into. Her troubled face seemed to match his image of her. Loki stopped himself. Why did it always come back to Siv? Every damned thought of his came back to Siv. Even after the realization that she was not real, he still came back to Siv. This was a hundred, no, a thousand times more painful for him than any bone-shattering fight he could ever possibly have with his thick-headed brother. This type of pain could not be healed by magic. Only erased. It was coming to a point where he was almost willing to accept wiping his memory.

Loki turned over and buried himself into his pillow. He would let her sleep here, for tonight. Tomorrow, she would sleep on the floor. The raven haired prince slept surprisingly well for a few hours.

Even after healing, Thor awoke in the middle of the night with a dreadful case of the runs.

"I really hate you, Loki," Thor said at breakfast.

"Thor!" Frigga chided.

Loki only smiled mischievously. "I am honestly shocked you are eating so heartily, especially after yesterday. You should still be in the lavatory, letting loose your insides."

"You are disgusting," Thor said, pointing a pheasant's drumstick at him.

"Your appetite is what's disgusting," Loki snorted.

Odin shifted his glance between his two sons. Frigga seemed hardly concerned. How was she so calm? A traitor no doubt walked in their midst, Heimdall was unable to see the Jotuns' movements, and Thor and Loki still acted like foolhardy children. The All-Father set down his bread. On his plate, the berries started to twitch and dance around the rim. Odin fumed. "Loki," he said sharply. The berries fell and were still.

"You seem very tense this morning, Father. I was only trying to lighten your spirits," Loki admitted. Despite yesterday's events, he still tried to make the All-Father see his worth. The raven haired prince flashed him a weary smile. Thor's words ate at his mind.

'_No matter what you do, you will always be second best to me.'_

"By the way, I've been meaning to ask," Thor piped up. "Everyone in the palace seems to be at the end of their wits. I popped into the kitchen for a late night snack –"

"Refueling your gut," Loki snickered.

Thor had a difficult time controlling the smile that twitched at his lips. "–when I startled a maid and she shrieked at me. All of the sudden I had twenty guards on me, just for her scream. What happened yesterday, Father? Why is everyone wound so tightly?" Thor asked. A tense silence followed. Odin appeared ready to fly into a fit of rage. The golden haired prince placed his goblet to his lips and stared at Loki. Frigga set down her utensils. It was dreadfully silent. Was anyone going to say something?

"An argument that resulted in you two nearly killing each other!" Odin snapped. Loki paled. This was what he responded with? Of all things, he brought up the fight? Not the Jotun or the desk or the fact that it still looked like Frigga was beaten?

"In the time where your actions mean the most, the time before I name the next king, you squabble like livestock. You make fools of yourselves wherever you go. Both of you are arrogant and hard headed. They are not uniquely Aesir traits, but I must say, you two know how to do it better than anyone. Neither of you are fit to be king. How can I leave this palace, the title of 'Protector of the Nine Realms' to either of you when you cannot see the world around you?

"I am ashamed to call you my sons," the king continued. "Loki, on top of everything that happened yesterday, you still struck up a fight! What has gotten into you of late? Are these episodes supposed to be some kind of stress relief? You made a show of this on purpose, didn't you?"

"That was not my intention –"

"_DIDN'T YOU_?" Odin bellowed, slamming his goblet on the table.

"He threw me into a _wall_, Father, and you are going to say nothing about that? How I would be dead right now because he aimed to kill me within the first five seconds? If I had not been using a doppelgänger, you would be holding my funeral right now!" Loki shouted, standing.

"You can heal yourself," Odin snarled. "Thor cannot. Your jokes and pranks go too far, and now, when we as a family need to be strong, you make a jest out of everything. I will not stand for any more of this!" Odin, too, stood, and grabbed Loki by the back of his collar. He dragged his son away from the table. Thor winced as if he'd been slapped. He did not stand from the table to follow his father.

"Odin, please," Frigga pleaded, pulling on his arm. "This is not the first time the boys have argued, nor will it be the last. Everything that happened yesterday is. . . It is irrelevant to what you are acting on now."

"And that is exactly why I am doing this," the All-Father retorted. "These things need to stop. I will not have this in my palace. You are both old enough now to know better. Shame on the two of you. You are in more danger than you understand. You two cannot act civil for more than a day; your enemies grow stronger and will use this petty fighting against you!"

Odin took Loki out to the courtyard, his wife protesting the entire way there. He released Loki's neck; the raven-haired prince stood stock still, fearful of what would happen next. A birch tree shot up from underneath his feet, dangerously fast. He was lucky to have not been impaled. It trapped him in its branches. They wove together like a bird cage, sealing Loki inside. He gripped the bars of his cage tightly. "Father, release me!" he begged.

Odin only shook his head jadedly. "I shall not. You must learn to control your mischievousness. You will be released if you can convince someone to shed a tear for you and your 'playful' behavior and rudimentary humor." And with that, Odin touched the base of the large tree. A white shield pulsed around the bark, blocking Loki from using his magic outside the bars. The All-Father tuned on his heel and headed back inside. Frigga stood under her son's perch, sighing fretfully.

"Mother!" Loki said instead, turning his attention toward her. She could not respond. Frigga saw both sides of the problem. She understood Odin's concern, but also knew punishment on this scale was just absurd.

"You'll cry for me, won't you, Mother?" Loki asked hopefully. Frigga blinked, flashing him a tortured smile.

"You know I cannot. I raised you boys. I cannot shed a tear over a common argument."

"This is a 'common argument'?" Loki repeated, looking around his cage. "What have I done to receive such punishment? Father never makes any sense when it comes to me. He either ignores me or makes a big show out of something small! Is this really about my fight with Thor? Or am I missing something? What was he even going on about, talking about the naming of the next king?"

Frigga sighed. She paced under the tree for a while in silence. There was so much she wanted to tell him. So many things would make sense to him if he only knew. . . Her mind was torn between what was right to her heart and right to her duties. Finally, she left without a word.

_11:56_

_18.1.14_


	14. Forget-Me-Not

No one came to visit Loki in the courtyard that day as he sat locked inside a tree. He had no food to eat or water to drink. The prince feared he might starve to death. He had plenty of time to sit and fume as the day continued on. He had no books and no paper, no object to entertain himself with in his birch prison. Night settled in and the temperature dropped quickly. Loki shivered and became a black bear. He could not transform himself and slip out of the cave, but at least Odin was gracious enough to allow him to transform into something a bit warmer.

"Gracious," Loki sneered under his breath.

Loki had no relief in sleep that night. Thankful for his precious few hours of restful slumber the night before, he rolled himself over to where he could see the sky. Beautiful, in all its splendor. The air was clear here, and the stars were closer. Night was never truly night in Asgard. Somewhere, the heavens always glittered with gold or blue or green, the light cast out from various local galaxies.

A sound was heard underneath him. The branches shook, leaves rustled. Loki gave a low growl. The rustling stopped. "Who goes there?" Loki called out in his grizzly voice.

There was a gasp. "You're a _bear_!"

Clarice. Loki immediately turned back into his princely form and stared out over the side of his cage. "What are you doing here?" he questioned, concerned. She should not have been able to remove herself from his room.

Clarice stared at him for a bit through the branches. "Sir," she eventually said, holding up a key ring, "your magic isn't really magic if it can be broken with the door key." She struggled to hand him a cloth bag through the wooden bars. "I brought you some food, and a blanket. A man stopped by your room earlier. I think he knew I was there. He tried the handle and told me Loki – told me that you were imprisoned in the courtyard."

Loki stared at her in disbelief.

"Help me up?" she asked, holding an arm out to him. He blindly took it, pulling her into his prison with him. She toppled into his chest with an "oof". She sat up and pulled herself away from him, brushing her hair from her face. "There is some bread in there, and some cheese. I tried to grab a flask for ale, but someone was coming into the kitchen and I didn't want to risk being caught."

He did not thank her, only stared at the food in the bag. She'd grabbed the largest loaves she could find. Loki scoffed quietly and set it aside. His anger fed his hunger. He did not feel the desire to eat. They stared at each other for a time.

"Why are you here?" Loki finally asked.

"There was only so much I could clean with a dust rag and no instructions. And I did not want to sit around all day at the window, no matter how gorgeous this place is. Everything is gold and steel and stone. Beautiful."

Loki nodded slightly. He had not meant what she was physically doing in the cage, but. . . His home was undeniably magnificent. "Indeed," he muttered.

Sometime between Clarice's arrival and sun-up, it began to rain and then snow. Loki collected the water in a vase of leaves. He placed his hand on the branches; they sprouted a second and third layer of foliage, providing dense protection from the elements. The autumnal equinox passed only a short time ago. The seasons were changing once more. Clarice shivered. Loki, in a moment of sympathy, transformed back into a bear and offered his heat to her. She huddled into his side and slept with her face in his black fur.

Morning illuminated the cage with a blue glow. Outside, it was dreary and dull; inside it was warm and comfortable. Despite Clarice's distrust for the raven haired prince, she found herself enjoying his company. Loki, however, was annoyed with her no matter what she did. If she spoke to him, he was bitter. If she said nothing to him, he was bitter. If she offered food to him, he was bitter. If she fed herself, he was bitter. If she sighed, he was bitter.

"Stop _glaring_ at me," she finally said, exasperated. "I would leave, but it's light out. If someone saw me, I'd be killed, and you – I don't even want to think about that."

Loki smirked. "Does blood make you nervous, mortal?"

Clarice lowered her head a bit. "It does."

Perhaps, maybe, he could abuse this. Abuse her.

She seemed to understand the sudden change in his demeanor. She shook her head quickly, backing up to the wall. "No," she insisted. "No. _No_. No!"

"You seem to forget which one of us is the pet here. Your insistence on saying the word 'no' will not make me stop," he chuckled, walking over to her. "There is plenty of room in this cage, my sweet, but you still have nowhere to run." He closed the distance between them. Clarice glared at him, chest heaving. He admired her ability to pin herself to the wall, cowering as she accepted her fate, yet still had the audacity to scowl at him. He was amused. "Good girl," he whispered into her ear. Clarice shuddered and slapped him with all her might. Ah, so she was used to such advances. Loki rubbed his face, smirking.

"I think I'll enjoy you," he murmured, grabbing her by the wrists.

"This again?" she struggled. So much for feeling comfortable in his presence.

Loki chuckled darkly. "What, do you not enjoy being handled roughly? I can only imagine Thor picked you up at some sort of brothel."

Clarice, offended, stomped on his foot. The raven haired prince hissed, glaring at her. "I can only imagine what sort of devil she was," the mortal snarled. "Your girl, Siv. What kind of atrocity was she, that you would treat a woman so poorly?"

Loki hesitated, shocked. "How dare you," he whispered. Clarice huffed, smiling proudly. "How dare you!" he bellowed. He was at once upon her. Clarice could not move. "How _dare_ you defile her name on your tongue! How dare you accuse her of being anything less than perfect? How dare you act so righteously, so haughtily, like my brother! She is ten times more than what you could ever be to me, maid! Hold your tongue, or you'll never speak a word again!"

Clarice stared at him fearfully. It dawned on her that Loki worshipped this Siv. No matter what words were said, no matter how he acted, this Siv meant everything to him. She lowered her gaze and apologized. Loki released her angrily, storming around the cage. There were still many things she did not know about Siv, or Loki either. Clarice wanted to ask, but in his present state, she feared he would give no answers.

Night was still many hours away. There was only enough food to satisfy one of them; Clarice hoped he would be kind enough to offer some of the rest of it to her. He never did. She sat as far away from him as she could get. Thankfully this was a spacious cage. English jail cells were smaller than this. These gods lived a life of luxury, even in imprisonment. The human wondered if bird cages were the common punishment. She had not seen another like it so far. But then, she had not looked for one. At some point, the raven haired prince stood and paced the outer edge of the cell many times. Clarice was not comfortable with his approach, and stood as well. They circled each other like animals, each watching each other warily. Clarice soon began to feel dizzy, and toppled over herself. Loki laughed, in spite of himself.

Night finally came, and Clarice readied herself to leave. Loki left her with several instructions for cleaning his chambers. She offered to sit with him more frequently; he swiftly declined the offer. Clarice left him and returned to Loki's wing, where she dutifully followed his regimen. In truth, she hoped that she could snoop into his life while tidying up. It took only a moment for the human to discover that, despite sharing a common spoken language, he wrote nothing in English. She tried and tried, but could not decode it.

But Clarice quickly grew tired of cleaning the same things every day. She was sometimes brave enough to sneak into the kitchen when the rest of the Asgardian servants feasted. She made no close friends, but enjoyed listening to their stories and gossips. No one paid her any mind. Clarice also spent much of her time with the overseer. At first, the trip was daunting. Over time, it became nothing but a regular journey. They had long talks and pleasant meals. He taught her many things about Asgard, but never the script. Clarice suspected he knew of her brief intents to spy on the raven haired prince's written life.

Spring coaxed the snow away before Clarice once again visited Loki in his cell. It was not shrouded with leaves, but they did offer him an umbrella of shade. He seemed well enough, although a bit skinny. The human presented him with several objects. Loki could not hide his surprise.

"I don't know what any of these say, but these seem like the most well-worn. I thought you would enjoy re-reading these," she said, offering him a satchel of his books. Inside the satchel, she also stowed a blank journal, a quill and an ink well. She also brought him more food. With the approach of every spring, the cooks made several sweet pastries to celebrate. They were rather delicious. He helped himself to one.

"You still wear your hair in a bun," Loki noticed. He eyed the flower circlet that adorned her head.

Clarice nodded, patting the bun carefully to make sure it was still in place. "Nothing wrong with a bun," she said defensively. "What about you, sir, always wearing yours long, you don't do anything exciting with it either."

Loki smirked. "I am a man, I am not required to embellish my hair with flowers and braids and other decorations."

Clarice grinned and transferred her circlet to his head. The blue petals seemed to fit him rather well, despite his obvious affinity for the color green. Her smile softened. Loki scowled a bit, touching the crown. "Are you trying to allude to something?" he growled.

The mortal bit her lip. "I don't know what you call those flowers here, but on Earth, we call them forget-me-nots. Their symbol is rather obvious. . . Last time we talked I said awful things about her. Your girl, Siv. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out the right way to apologize, instead of just 'forgive me'. I know nothing about you, or her. If it is too forward of me, I apologize, but I would really like to get to know about Siv. About what you feel towards her. I brought you pain, and I am willing to do anything to heal the wound."

Loki was quiet for a time. He plucked a single petal from the crown, examining it between his fingers. It wilted quickly. The raven haired prince sighed. Everything reminded him of Siv these days. What else was there to think about, trapped in a tree? "These flowers are the color of her eyes," he murmured. "Your eyes as well." Clarice pursed her lips. Loki sighed once more.

"I do not know what to tell you. She is a ghost now. A poltergeist. As hard as I try, I cannot get rid of her. These memories are a disease, collapsing my mind and body from the inside. I do not want to talk about her. I want to forget her. I admired her as a child, yearned for her as a teen, despise her now as an adult. She is dead. She is dead, and I need something else to focus on. You said you were willing to do anything to heal the wound. This is not a wound easily healed." Loki looked at her. It sent a bolt through the mortal's spine. She could not disagree she found him aesthetically attractive, but the coldness of his eyes pierced her through and through. He pulled her closer to him. Clarice did not resist as he cupped her cheek, did not flinch as he brought her to his lips, did not deny him as he laid her gently on the floor of the cell.

"Is this all you wanted from me, in the end?" she breathed, arms wrapped around his neck.

The raven haired prince chuckled into her ear. The spots of sunlight felt warm on his back as he enjoyed the mortal's willingness. "This is a form of healing, is it not?" he murmured. "If you can make me forget. . ."

"Forget?" she whispered. No. No, she did not want him to forget about his old lover. That was never her intention. Did she even intend to do this? No, this was a response to his loneliness. Only so. He would not reflect his old desires onto her. She would not become a rebound.

"If you can make me forget about her, I am in your debt."

Clarice let out a laugh. What did she expect? That he would pledge his love to her, instead? A human, who would last but only a few more decades? No. This was all she could ask for in return. This was not about her, after all. It was only natural she would seek a husband at this time in her life. She would never have one here, in the world of gods and immortals.

"You did not bleed," the prince said suddenly after hours of comfortable silence.

"You noticed," she sighed, avoiding his gaze.

"I assumed you were still a virgin, after asking if you were from a brothel." He grinned slightly as she scowled.

"My fiancé did that to me. Before we were joined in matrimony, he took me. I thought little of it; the next evening was our wedding night. But he took me and left me, unsatisfied with my performance. I was never wed, and bore a child. I wanted to go back to Sweden with her, but she never made it. She died while still an infant. A sickness took her."

Loki wanted to apologize. He did not realize she was old enough to give birth, despite her physical appearance. But he said nothing.

"It was a long time ago," Clarice sighed. "I do not expect you to understand, but after she died, I could not bring myself to find another husband. It was not worth it to me. In the city I lived in, all men were pigs. I have no doubt I would have fallen into the same trap a thousand times. I somehow thought I might be more fortunate here, but everyone lives for thousands of years. They would watch their child grow and die like a weed."

The raven haired prince found himself quoting an ancient thought of his. "It must be so frightening to live as a human, to know you only have a handful of years to live and then you fade away into the earth." He smiled grimly, remembering to whom he directed that ancient thought.

Clarice hummed quietly, closing her eyes. "It is not as terrifying as you think. Of course, it's frightening. But we humans have always known it is to be like this. We cannot fight it. We do our best to make the most of our time. We don't have a chance to sit and compare our lifespan to gods. Maybe you see humans as pathetic, and sometimes we are, but we are many and we are strong. Besides, we are immortal after death."

By this time, the flower circlet was limp and crumbling. The human collected it gently. It fell apart in her hands. She sighed. "I'll make another," she whispered.

"Perhaps without such delicate petals," he suggested, pulling himself into a sitting position. Clarice flashed him a smile.

"It was not originally for you, but yes, I will make you another."

Loki frowned. "Who was it for, then, if not for me?"

"My daughter," she said simply.

Loki did not appreciate her sudden reluctance to speak. It brewed several questions, and he wanted them answered. Why did she not give a name to this daughter? Why did she talk of husbands? Did she assume he would fall for her? And who supplied her with this new dress? Where were his parents? His brother? Why was she the only one who came to the courtyard? Was it not time for the vernal equinox? Did they not celebrate this year? What news was there of the Jotun that infiltrated only months ago?

"What was her name?" the raven haired prince tried. If he only allowed himself one question, this was the most curious one. Loki feared he already knew the answer.

Clarice smiled bitterly, wiping the dew from her eyes. "Her name . . . was Elizabeth, after my mother."

Loki did not completely believe her.

Spring came and went, pulling summer along behind it. Clarice did not visit, although sometimes Loki would hear her at the edge of the courtyard, talking with another maid. She paid him no mind. It angered Loki that she ignored him, regardless of knowing full well that she could not communicate with him in such an open manner.

"The prince is looking at you again," Clarice's maid-friend whispered, giggling.

"Let him look," she snorted. "He'll have none of me."

The girls laughed and carried on, tugging carts of linens to the washroom.

"Tell me, ladies, any more news of a Jotun in the palace?" he called out. His words seemed spiteful underneath his smile.

The girls paused, looking at each other. Clarice was confused; her partner paled. The human dared not ask what a 'Jotun' was.

"No sir," the Aesir maid finally responded. "Although, I did not know it was true. . . _Is_ it true? Was there an infiltration? I heard – I heard he ruined your childhood study desk. Marked it for death. That you and he fought long and hard, and he nearly killed you, and brought up a whole squad of soldiers from Jotunheim after."

Loki smiled but said nothing, only laid back down in his cage.

The maids hurriedly escaped to the washing room. Clarice said little, observing her friend. The young woman seemed like she'd seen a ghost. She would probably collapse into a fit of tears at any moment.

"What's wrong, Love?" an approaching maid asked, patting the girl on the head.

"Oh, it's awful!" she sobbed. There were the tears. Clarice stood and returned to her duties, washing the table cloths and napkins against the board.

"It's simply awful! You remember last year that there was talk of a Frost Giant in the palace? We passed the prince in his cell today on our way here and he asked us the news about it – he acted like it was true! How could this happen? How could there be such a vile monster on the grounds? Are we not protected? Are we no longer safe? Does the All-Father have control of the beasts? What if there's another murder? First Baldur, now Loki –!"

"Hush now, child," the elder maid said softly. "You know how Loki is. He is only trying to scare you, now. He enjoys mischief, remember? No doubt being stuck in that cage has made him edgy. Do not worry so, we are safe. The All-Father is not called the Protector of the Nine Realms for nothing. . ."

_23.2.14_

_14:51_


	15. A Mother's Love

Four short years passed before Frigga came to visit her imprisoned son. The All-Father did his best to prevent her from going to him; in the end, her argument won out.

"_He is my son!" she snapped at him, "And you'll not command me to abandon his side for the sake of your distress o'er his future!"_

Frigga feared for Loki. From the time of his birth, she feared for him. He was always small, dreadfully so. He would never become a great and noble warrior, a value so highly sought after. Valhalla, the hall of the soldiers who perished in war, was considered a place of _paradise_. Loki was just not cut out for such endeavors. And she knew Loki knew it, and Thor knew it, and most of all, Odin knew it. Frigga used to fear her young Loki would grow up as an outcast; now she feared it would continue to plague him, no matter what realm he was in. It did not matter to her that the raven haired prince was not of her own flesh and blood. The night Odin confiscated the Casket of Ancient Winters from Jotunheim, the night Frigga held Loki for the first time. . . She knew several possibilities awaited his future. None of them were admirable.

If only she'd not spent so much time teaching him magic, she told herself. But in the end, Frigga knew she could no longer protect him. He was a grown adult, knowledgeable in many great and terrible things she never taught him. The All-Mother feared his knack for mischief would be the death of him, if not his troubled mind. From the time he could walk, Loki paced the halls, muttering to himself. Always lost in thought, always concerned. If only she could give him what his heart desired: peace. But she could do nothing about it, even in all her wisdom and power. This was a battle she knew her son must fight alone. She could only be there to guide him and offer solace. Loki was not weak, as her husband and elder son believed. He was only lost.

Why did Odin refuse to see this? Why did Thor insist on tormenting his younger brother?

"Loki?" Frigga called, trekking through the white courtyard. The snow was above her ankles. This was hardly a light dusting compared to the amount Asgard often received in winter. It was still early autumn, however, and this was unheard of. Frigga could not help but wonder if this was her son's doing. It pained her to think the early snowfall was the cause of Loki's own frigid heart.

He did not respond to her.

"Loki?" she tried again.

The birch prison rustled and was still.

"Mother," Loki murmured. It was hard to hear him from so high up. She backed away from the inglorious tree, attempting to catch a glimpse of his face. It was impossible. Loki's cocoon grew thick with shadows over the four winters. If Odin demanded he not be released, Loki retaliated by refusing to be seen at all. Frigga sighed ruefully.

"I brought you food," she said, holding out a large container. It was filled to the lid with the staples of Loki's favorite meals.

"I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me, Mother." He could not help but lace his words with a condescending tone. "After four acrid springs and four hellish summers and four miserable autumns and four bitter winters, you finally come back to sustain me. Even the most rotted food looks delicious after surviving with nothing. Tis a pity I cannot have it, what with Odin's cage between us," he voiced.

Frigga was hurt. "I did not mean to be away for so long. Did no one bring you meals? And do not worry about the bars. I will give you what you should have received ages ago," she replied. The All-Mother tucked the container under her arm and cast magic on the birch tree. Branches protruded from the trunk, twisting themselves into a spiral staircase that led right up to his cage. She gracefully ascended.

"Don't come up here!" Loki said suddenly. He almost seemed fearful. But Frigga ignored his urgent demand. She climbed higher and higher until she faced his confine. "Show yourself," she murmured softly.

Loki hesitated. He let out a slow breath, and, after a few tense moments, a section of the snow melted away and the thick leaves underneath unfurled. Her raven haired prince sat alone in the center of his cage. His head was lowered, eyes welling with some kind of guilt or betrayal. Frigga passed the heavy container to him through the branches as if they were nothing more than a hologram. He sighed and took it, only to push it aside. He stood, facing her. The raven haired prince had grown increasingly thankful for the allotted space.

"Mother, I will be trapped up here forever."

Frigga cast him an uncertain glance. She did not wish to believe it, on any account, but he might have been right. The All-Mother opened her mouth to speak, only to deny herself. Behind Loki, a small pile of his belongings huddled in the corner beside a linen sheet. Books, quills, a satchel overflowing with leftovers from yesterday's feast. She stared at her son for a time. He met her gaze without flinching. Frigga could not decide what to make of it. There were no foot prints leading to or away from the birch, and he could not cast magic outside the birch to summon the items here. So how did he manage to obtain these? The All-Mother shook her head, sighing. In any case, she was relieved he was not freezing up here by himself.

"I do not understand why you are here," Loki said finally. He searched his mother's face for some sign of Odin's repeal, some signal, some indication that he could be released. But there was none.

Frigga frowned. "Am I not welcome here? Am I banned not only by my husband, but by my son as well? What is a son, then, but a figment of my imagination, only thought about to bring a smile to my face?"

"What is a mother, then, but a ghost of my childhood, only remembered as a hen fretting over three impossible men?" Loki responded, a thin smile gracing his lips. "And I never said you were unwelcome. I no longer know how to respond to you, after avoiding me for so long."

"Do you doubt my love?" she asked, tongue sharp.

Loki stepped back, feeling physically wounded by her words. He had not intended to draw such a reaction. It was painful to the both of them. "No," he whispered, turning away from her. Frigga lowered her gaze.

"I am truly sorry about this, Loki," she murmured. "If there was a way to free you, I would. In the future I recommend keeping your tricks to a minimum, especially when fighting with your brother. I know it is hard for you to hold up against such power without it, but please do your best."

"I am still the one to blame for that?" Loki snapped, wheeling to face his mother. "_I_ am the one put to shame on display in the courtyard? While Thor continues to prance around in his shining armor and swinging his mace, I am trapped here! I did damage only to him, damage that was easily healed! He nearly collapsed the whole hall, killing us all with him! And yet Thor is worshipped like a _saint_!"

"Do not act as though I favor your father's opinion!" Frigga barked. "How dare you accuse me of sitting idly? You think I have not punished Thor for his actions? Have you seen him here, cavorting underneath you? You should be ashamed of yourself for thinking that I just abandoned you! I have never once left you to fend for yourself, to die in the cold. I have always been by your side to help you. I have been the buffer between you and your father, saving you each from volumes of hurtful words that cannot be repealed. How can you be so blind, Loki? Do I mean nothing to you? When I first saw you struggle to lift a sword, when I first saw you turn up your nose to war games, I offered you magic. I offered you something you could bring forward and amaze people with. And Loki, you have far surpassed what I thought you were capable of –"

"Mother, you are wrong. You offered me magic because I was weak. Because I could not compete with my brothers. Because I was the smallest of the three, you gave me magic, the woman's weapon. Did you not sigh at us as children, saying that you always wanted a daughter? Would it have been better for you and father if I was a woman? So Odin would not have to hang his head in shame because I am so talented with your spells and not with his spear? You gave me magic in the end to at least strengthen my abilities in _something,_ for the royal family could not have a child excelling in nothing!"

"Are you saying that I was selfish to teach you the trade you are so proud and yet so ashamed of?"

"I am saying you have ruined me for being in any sort of position of power. I am a laughing stock, a jester of our royal court, because I cannot gallop into battle and fight for eight months without rest! You have ruined me, Mother, I will never be a king! Not here or anywhere!"

"If you truly think so lowly of me as your mother, then perhaps I ought to take my leave!" The All-Mother stormed down her staircase and back across the courtyard. She stepped though a hollow patch of snow; she stumbled briefly. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of golden smoke. The hole appeared to be shaped like a foot print, smaller than hers and smaller than Loki's. She thought little of it. Loki was not returning from his prison any time soon. So what if someone was at least kind enough to bring him a blanket? Frigga clicked her tongue and fumed all the way back to the palace.

Hardly a few moments later, a slight figure trotted across the fallen snow. It was Clarice. Her hair was longer now, and she was less skittish about traversing the grounds of the palace. She padded softly though Frigga's fresh steps. "What is this?" she murmured to herself, scaling the staircase easily. "I see you had a thoughtful visitor!" she called kindly as she approached. "Although, I am a bit disappointed I no longer need to climb the tree. I got rather good at it," she joked.

But Loki was in no joking mood. As soon as she stepped through the branches, the little cavern sealed itself. They were enveloped in darkness. "Is something wrong?" she asked cautiously, pressing her back against the cool leaves.

"Give yourself to me," he hissed in her ear. His voice was piercing, angry, flowing with animosity. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and attacked her neck with a barrage of greedy kisses. She gasped sharply. This act was no longer an uncommon occurrence, however, only today he was much more demanding. And rough. She dared not tell Loki he was hurting her.

He ravaged her once, twice, until his anger finally ebbed away and he could control himself. He did not ask for forgiveness, but the human could feel it, hear his mind screaming out to her. She petted his hair, stroked his face.

"Tell me what happened?" she asked quietly.

He only shook his head. She closed her eyes and held him.

Later that afternoon, Clarice retired to Loki's bedroom once more. As she treaded down the stairs, a figure approached. Her heart climbed into her throat. Someone had seen her leave Loki's cell. But it was only Heimdall, an Aesir she spoke with regularly now. He nodded to her slowly. She blushed a deep red and hid herself in her hood. He knew. Clarice scurried away.

Heimdall stood underneath the great tree. "Loki," he spoke, deep voice carrying.

From the high branches came a simple, flat, "What."

Heimdall might have smiled. "You should not treat your 'pets' so roughly. She is delicate." There was no response. "I admire your bird cage," he added.

"Shut it," Loki growled, peeking through the bars.

They stared at each other for a long while. Finally, Loki curled his upper lip in a spiteful smile. "Three visitors in one day, that's a new record."

"Your brother is beginning to regret causing you so much grief," the overseer said. "I thought you might be interested to know he has half a mind to apologize."

"Splendid," Loki replied, sneering, "And afterward he and I can go on a mission to Jotunheim and slay frost giants for fun, as a way to make up with each other."

"Your malice is what uneases your king. Perhaps it would be wise to not display it so openly. At least not around others."

"Thank you, Heimdall, for that insightful piece of information. I will make sure to keep that in mind next time I plan on killing someone."

Heimdall narrowed his eyes.

"I jest," Loki added quickly.

Heimdall was not so sure. "You will never convince someone to weep for you with gruesome jokes such as that."

Loki suddenly had an idea. "No, Heimdall. I only need someone to shed a tear. A single tear is all it takes."

"One drop or an entire flood, it makes no difference. The field still requires rain." Heimdall eyed the captive prince suspiciously.

I could not ask you to cry for me, could I?" Loki questioned hopefully.

"I do not cry," Heimdall said simply.

Loki sighed and nodded, resting his forehead against the bars. "It was worth a shot," he shrugged.

Heimdall opened his mouth to speak. All that came out was a loud grunt; a leaf, repelled from the birch tree by magic, struck the overseer in the eye. He held his face in his hands; it was too late. A single tear streamed down his cheek. The damage was done. The birch tree shuddered and let loose the bottom of the cell. Loki smirked, agilely making his way down the spiral stair case as it regressed into the tree.

"You may not cry, Gatekeeper," the mischievous prince cooed, "but your eyes do produce liquid of some sort." Loki returned to his chambers and took Clarice once more. The container of food Frigga presented to him lay broken and strewn about the grounds, as a grave marker for Loki's prison.

That night, Odin did not pace. He _tore_ through his chambers. He was practically running on the same stretch of floor, seething, bellowing. He would have upturned furniture had Frigga not been beside him, rubbing her temples. Loki had used trickery to get out of his cage. The cage Odin put him in specifically to prevent him from doing just that. The All-Father cursed loudly, slamming his fist into the wall. A spider web cracked across the miniature impact crater. "He will never learn!" Odin shouted, infuriated. Frigga rolled her eyes and sat quietly, sighing again and again. It was not worth trying to calm her husband down. Loki was just a trickster. It was in his soul. It was what amused him, comforted him. If this were a different realm, a different time, he could have been one of the best kings ever seen. But this society – Odin's society – had no place for ill-used magic.

He worried for his boy in a much more. . . aggressive fashion. Unfortunately, his concern would never reach Loki.

҉

"I'm sorry – what?"

"Are you surprised?"

"I do not understand, how is that possible?"

"Just because you are a god, it does not mean much. Things still work the same way."

Loki cradled his temples in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. This mortal was more headache than she was worth. Clarice chuckled quietly beside him.

"I still believe in my God, despite what you have shown yourself to be."

For a brief moment, Loki remembered Richter. _'All gods are but frauds amongst the one true God.'_ He smiled wryly and took her by the wrist. Clarice narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Even after four years, she still disapproved of his method of approaching her.

"Then perhaps I have not shown you enough. What is your god, but a silent man, who offers nothing but a place of rest when your time is over? What is your god, but a breath of wind, who listens to your prayers with deaf ears? Why do you refuse to drop your old ways and worship me instead?"

Without warning, the world flashed white and the two stood in England. Clarice stared blankly. This was no doubt her home, her raggedy old town filled with drunkards and bastards and happy music, the town abandoned by time and crown alike. The mortal placed her hands to her lips in attempt to silence the cries of her heart. Oh, how she despised and missed this place. The world continued to move around them. They were unseen, unnoticed, unrecognized. There, off in the corner, her ramshackle bawdy bar still stood. The place sagged a bit more, the lights dimmer, the shouts quieter. How many years had passed? Clarice found herself drawing near to it. The bar, of all places. Why here? Why not the pier, the last place her feet touched? A man brushed past her, bumped into her shoulder. He stopped, blinking in confusion. Nothing was beside him to bump into. Clarice gaped. He was no doubt Old Lady Crowley's child, once but a wee lad, now full grown with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He shook his head and continued down the street. Clarice squeaked. No one noticed.

No one but Loki.

"This is what your world has become without you," he murmured in her ear. "How many nights have you laid awake, hands clasped as you whisper to your god, 'send me back home'?"

Clarice shut her eyes, blinking back her tears. _None_, she wanted to say, _None_. But that would have been a lie, and a brutally obvious one. Even now she still wanted to come back. Even if her world had forgotten her.

"I can send you back," he breathed. His sweet words tickled her ear, sent her heart racing. Could she really come back? Would he let her? "I can send you back, to the very same night you left. Nothing would change. No one would know you were gone. No one would know you were at the mercy of gods. It will be like awakening from a horrible dream. What's more, I can return your years to you. Let you live again four years younger. Is that not what you desire most? To come back home? To be with your friends?"

Somehow, the human was torn. She had grown fond of the place called Asgard. It was infinitely more beautiful than here. There were no harsh smells and no foul men. Only good-natured nights of drinking and feasting. Wonderful people. Amazing sights. And the prince, her master. But she missed her home dearly, and still hoped for a husband and a child.

"Sir," she whispered.

"Swear your allegiance and faith to me, and I will give you back your home."

"Sir," she said again, a bit louder.

"Let me be your God. Worship me. I will mend your broken and tired heart."

"Sir!" she snapped. Loki blinked in surprise, but held his composure. "I want. . ."

"Yes?" he said softly. "I can give you anything."

Clarice closed her eyes. Her chest thrummed. She could swear he heard it rattling around in her chest like a dry gourd. "I want to bear a child. I want to know I have done some good in the world, this world or any world. You do not need call yourself my husband, nor do I need to call you my god. I adore you either way. I'll not admit it to be love to you or to myself or to anyone; you are a prince. But bless me with a child, a son or a daughter I care not. Let me mother a baby. It does not need to be yours."

Silence.

Would he not respond?

Clarice opened one eye curiously. They were once again standing in the raven haired prince's chambers. She let out a shaky sigh. Loki sat on the corner of his bed, staring intently at the floor.

"Astral projection," he whispered. "We never left this room." The mortal nodded slowly, though not entirely understanding of his words. There was a long stretch of silence, and then, "I will give you what you desire."

Clarice swallowed, clutching her chest.

Loki stood and walked to his trembling maid, held her by her shoulders and whispered into her forehead. "I will give you what you desire."

And then he left.

Clarice collapsed onto the floor, weeping tears of relief into the floor rug. Hours later, her eyes were dry and her master still had not returned. She traced the lines of the rug with her finger, following paths until she could not trace any longer. It was a map of Asgard, she'd learnt one night. So where was the prince now? She closed her eyes and picked herself up with tired feet, turned in circles 'til she could not balance, and fell to her knees once again. Her hands sought out a familiar path. One spot called out to her. Clarice's finger followed it for what felt like eternity. She opened her eyes. Below her nail rested the observatory. She smiled faintly, laid her head against the soft carpet, and slept.

She awoke early in the morning with cold sweats and a horrid fever. Her stomach could not hold its dinner. She ran to the wash basin with not a second to spare. It took the better part of a week for her to realize this was morning sickness, an ailment that plagued expectant mothers. In her exhaustion, Clarice found the power to smile.

In her last weeks of pregnancy, Loki finally returned to his room. He was surprised to find her belly so swollen. Aesir women were pregnant for years before finally giving birth. He spent his time by her side, reading to her in his native tongue. She listened with a smile, unknowing of his words but keen on the emotion.

She gave birth in his bed suddenly one night. Her screams of pain brought a cold wave of terror to the raven haired prince. He knew nothing of Aesir birth, let alone mortal. He feared her pain would wake the entire palace, but no one came. The birth was bloody. It made him sick to his stomach. He swallowed back the bile for the sake of his human. The baby was birthed, and the wet and steaming child was presented to Clarice.

The baby never cried, only slept in against its mother's heart. Clarice wept tears of joy. Loki fell to his knees on the floor, resting his head against the edge of his bed.

The mortal finally slept, holding her sweet infant to her breast. In her hours of rest, her child still did not stir. Loki cautiously put a hand to its forehead. It was sticky and cool to the touch. He wiped away the blood from its face. The skin underneath was blue and swollen, hard under his fingers. The prince blanched. His maid had delivered a stillborn, and neither had realized until it was much too late.

Clarice awoke with her child missing and blood soaked sheets sticking to her legs. Loki could not tell her what happened. He weaved a lie, saying that a stranger had come in the night to steal her baby away. The mother wept again.

Loki returned from countless false hunts to bear the bad news over and over again.

The baby was never found.

One day, many, many months later, Heimdall spotted a skull pushed onto the shore by waves. He picked it up, examining it.

The back of the tiny skull was shattered.

_20:56_

_20.1.14_


	16. Chapter 19

"Have you not grown tired of staring out over the kingdom?" Loki asked, not looking up from his desk. He held a quill in one hand, a scroll of parchment in the other. Books littered the surface, stacked higher than Clarice was tall. She smiled faintly, casting her warm gaze at him.

"No matter how many years pass, it will always feel like a dream." She paused, turning back to the window. "A dream from which I always fear waking."

Loki paused, setting his quill down.

Clarice was looking much more aged now. Her once-luscious chocolate hair was now fragile and faded. Tiny wrinkles formed in the corners of her dimples, of her eyes, of her lips. Her youth was waning. To her, she'd lived out her life to its fullest; to him, she wilted like an unwatered flower. Loki stood quietly.

"You know," she chuckled, "I feel like a princess. Locked in the tallest tower, unable to leave, forced to live her live in quiet solitude."

"Complete with a dragon?" Loki asked, murmuring into her neck. She hummed in amusement. He rested his chin against her shoulder, torso pressing into the curve of her back.

"Complete with a dragon," she repeated, smiling. It was an ill-used allusion. She was content here, kept hidden away from the god's world. She was cared for. Loved. Held. Despite his occasional cruel jokes and tricks, she found herself loving the God of Mischief more than anything. He no longer hated her for this so-called borrowed soul inside her body. He saw her for her. Many times she wished to thank the strange man that kidnapped her all those years ago.

Loki kissed the back of her head, breathing in her scent.

"Please."

The human shook her tired head. This was a discussion they had frequently now. Her answer remained the same. "Loki, you know I cannot."

"But you can," he urged quietly. "You can. Just one bite, a taste."

"I won't," she whispered. "I cannot. Humans are not meant to live for an eternity. Please Loki, let me live out my life as it is meant to be." It was quiet. They both knew he was not going to accept her answer. He would keep trying, though. She knew he would. If all else failed, he would trick her into doing it. He was the snake with the fruit of knowledge. Only this time, he was a pleading god with the apple of immortality.

No matter how much they were in love, Clarice would never choose an eternity alive over an eternity in heaven. Loki was her god, but he was not her God.

Clarice sighed, shrugging out of his tender embrace. "This room will never be clean if you keep distracting me," she chided playfully.

"I am the one distracting you?" Loki scoffed. "I turn around and you are back at the window!" He sat again and retired his thoughts to the parchment, scribbling notes and diagrams and spells in a language Clarice never hoped to understand. It was as if the question had not been asked in the first place.

Today, she decided to clean the bookshelves. The ones against the corner of the wall had not seen a dust rag since before the time of her arrival. Clarice set to work, using stacks of books as a staircase to reach the topmost shelves. She kicked up a terrible amount of dust. "Do you not take pride in this collection?" she coughed, waving away the grey clouds.

Loki did not hear her, too lost in his work.

She sighed and turned her attention back to the highest shelf. She could not see over the top of it. There weren't enough books to stand on, and besides, she was not brave enough to stack them any higher. She reached back with the dust rag in large sweeping motions. Her hand brushed a cold metal box.

"What is this?" she asked him, holding it out. He still did not hear her. Clarice shrugged and shook the dented tin. Perhaps it was a memory box, as young children often kept. It was certainly dusty enough to be. Something rattled inside. She leaned against the shelf and tucked her rag under her arm. Inside the box, a thin leather strip was growing brittle, crumbling to nothing.

Something pounded on the inside of her forehead. Clarice winced.

What was this ancient piece of leather doing here? Something screeched at her from the back of her mind. The pounding grew in force. It brought tears to her eyes. Her heart ached. She wanted to sob, wail at the top of her lungs. Clarice did not know why. Her breath became short and ragged, painfully tight. Slowly, slowly, she reached inside and touched the leather strip.

Hundreds of thoughts, emotions, memories forced their way into her at once. Clarice gasped.

Loki looked up curiously. "What is wrong?" he wanted to ask, but the words did not make it past his tongue. Clarice was shrieking. Sobbing. Howling like a tortured soul. He stood abruptly and went to her. The mortal still stood atop a mountain of books, tottering dangerously. What was she screaming about?

Then he saw it.

The box.

Siv's leather hair tie.

Loki blanched. He felt sick to his stomach. And Clarice, sweet Clarice, what had she done? What made her scream so? Were her eyes always this blue?

"Get her down from there!" a voice bellowed. Loki nodded and blindly climbed up the makeshift staircase to his aging beloved. He reached for her.

"Take my hand!" he begged, voice dry and cracking.

Clarice only wept, holding her head in her hands. She shook her head fiercely, hair whipping the two of them. "I cannot!" she screamed, "I cannot! Let me die! Just let me die! Please, no more pain! No more! Loki, make it stop!"

Loki stared at her in sheer terror. He could do nothing. Absolutely nothing. He climbed one more stack of books and touched the hem of her dress. She shuddered, taking a step away from him. Only, there was nowhere to step to. She fell from the tallest stack of books, a dangerous drop that surely would break her back. Loki's world crashed to the floor.

҉

The raven haired prince sat at her bedside as the healers worked around her. He longed to reach for her hand, but if he came close, she recoiled with all her might. It crushed him from the inside.

The royal family stood a small distance away, whispering to themselves.

Loki did not care. Let them whisper. Odin likely blamed him for the sudden appearance of this mortal woman, anyway. He flashed an empty smile to himself. It did not matter now what they thought. All he cared about was Clarice. He could sense, from the doctors' perturbed expressions, it was likely she would not live for much longer. He folded his arms over his chest and sat back in his chair. Sat back in his mind. Buried his feelings so far inside of himself that his own vision was turning black with shadows.

"Why was she screaming?" Frigga asked gently. Loki hardly noticed her approach. It was then the god realized it. Clarice had a mother's touch. That first day he met her, when she checked his fever, he had not noticed her either. It was as if. . . what? As if Clarice was a shell of the All-Mother? No, Clarice was a shell of Siv. Or perhaps, an awakening Siv. Loki hoped the latter was true, somewhere in his breaking heart. Why was she screaming? _Why was she screaming?_

The healers could not answer. They gave some longwinded explanation of what they thought had happened to her: "She had some sort of amnesia, she must have remembered something very painful for her, she was suddenly afraid of her surroundings, it is not something we can fix, memories are memories and must not be tampered with, all we can do for her is let her rest and hopefully she will come around."

But why was she screaming? Why did she reject Loki's touch? Did she fear him? Why were her eyes glowing then and not now? Had no one noticed the fragile strip of leather in her fist this whole time? Was he going to lose her to this? What was this? Siv's hair tie. Why was she screaming? The only remotely plausible explanation was that. . . Clarice was really Siv. Somewhere inside, that was his human. The memories had been jumpstarted. But the pain. Why was she in pain? She begged to die. _Make it stop._ Make what stop? The pain? The memories? Were all these years of pain and suffering for naught? Did Siv really hate him?

Memories of his childhood came flooding back. Of Siv. Of the wolf. The kiss. The way she smiled at him before she died beside him. In his arms, practically. They hadn't even said goodbye.

Loki subconsciously gripped his chest, trying to ease away the ache. His breath hitched in his throat as he stared unseeingly at the floor.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his forehead. Amidst the healers furiously stumbling over their words to explain the situation, Clarice stood and returned to Loki. His head snapped up. "I'm scared," she whispered. Her hand was cold and clammy. The raven haired prince quickly took her arm and held her, buried his face in her hair, her shoulder. She was no longer afraid of him. No screaming, no begging for death. He could live with that, at least.

An eerie silence befell the room.

Odin boiled with anger. "What is this?" he hissed.

Clarice flinched and hid behind Loki. It was as if she was a small child, cowering from a monster. Odin was a monster.

"I brought her here."

Odin stared at his son. "You what?" he said.

"I brought her here," Thor repeated. "When I returned from Midgard last, I brought her here."

Loki stared at his elder brother in surprise. It was unlike him to clean up after his own messes. Perhaps Thor was starting to grow up. . . perhaps.

"You are the one," Clarice whispered in awe from behind Loki. "You are the one. I remember you. I remember your face. I slapped you."

"You did," Thor chuckled, looking over at her, rubbing his jaw.

"But why?" Odin whispered. It was hard to tell how the All-Father felt at this exact moment.

Thor did not shy away from his father. "I kidnapped her because I thought she would make a good accompaniment to Loki. He feared for her, and kept her in his room. I told her to let her live out her life, but he treated her like a pet."

And then again, perhaps Thor was as arrogant as ever. Loki narrowed his eyes. Thor only smiled.

"You lied to me," Odin said sharply, turning to the door.

Heimdall stood to the side, overlooking the situation. When had he entered? It did not matter now. The gatekeeper and overseer nodded slowly, lowering his gaze. "Forgive me, milord."

"You _lied_ to me," Odin repeated, voice rising. "Why? Why did you lie to me? When I specifically asked you? Why did you allow this to happen? To let this mortal into Asgard? And you two!" he snarled, turning to face his sons. "Do you have any idea what you have done? Disobeying direct orders to leave the humans be? And what do you do, you organize a kidnapping and lock her away like a prisoner to be prodded through the bars and sneered at!"

"Stop," Clarice whimpered, looking up at the All-Father with wide eyes. "Stop. I liked there. Loki was kind to me. He was soft and gentle. He was my friend." The king stared at her as if she were a child, not understanding her own words. "It was better that I was with him, not around the palace. If I were ever found, I would have no one to turn to. Asgard would have overwhelmed me. Loki kept me safe." She took her prince's hand. Loki squeezed it tightly, challenging his father's gaze. Frigga gasped quietly and reached for her husband. This was not something he would let go without raising his fist.

"Kept you safe?" Odin scoffed. "I found you standing on the tallest pile of books, screaming, sobbing, eager to get away from him."

"I was in pain," Clarice whispered, looking down. "I learned some things – I remembered some things that were not meant for me."

Odin meant to interrogate her further, but Clarice grew weak and slumped into Loki's side. She was fading.

That evening, Clarice was taken to Heimdall's observatory, where the royal family prepared a short funeral service. No one spoke in her honor, however. Loki gazed on, forlorn. He was lost without Clarice by his side, without her awaiting him in his chambers. "Please," he asked her again. One last time. "Please."

"I cannot," Clarice smiled. She pressed her lips to his forehead. "You know I cannot."

"But you can," he whispered. Tears welled in his eyes. He held her close.

"I won't," they repeated in unison. Loki was going to miss this conversation.

"Do not fret," she whispered into his ear. "You will see me again. I promise."

"It is time," Odin said. He held his arm out to the mortal.

"I am not ready yet," she answered, stepping over to Thor. Odin bristled. "Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you. If you had not been greedy, I would never have met the most important person in my life. Thank you."

Clarice then took the king's arm and made her way to Heimdall. "Thank you as well," she whispered. "If not for you, I would have died in that forsaken English town alone."

Heimdall was quiet. "Would you not prefer to die before you are sent out?"

'I am already dead," she replied. "You can see it, can you not? My life is ebbing away. These memories I earned, they are eating my body from the inside. I can feel it. Send me out. Let me die on your ocean, swimming through a sea of stars. It is better to die in a cradle of galaxies than collapse ungracefully over the edge of this bridge."

And then Clarice climbed into the longboat that rested on the great bridge. She was sent off with the force of Loki's psychic magic, descending through the air until she reached the water. The water was furious tonight. Clarice floated on for a ways, before the inky blackness swept the vessel into its mouth and swallowed her.

A cold silence befell the royal family.

"The fight. The fight you boys had ages ago, that destroyed the both of you. What is about her arrival?" Frigga asked quietly.

They nodded once.

Frigga looked at her husband, lips pursed. Odin was silent, and then, "Thor."

The crown prince turned to his father.

"I pardon your actions involving the mortal," the All-Father said quietly. It almost sounded as if he regretted his decision to forgive. Loki awaited his own pardon. It never came. Odin felt witnessing the death of an acquaintance would not be met kindly with a useless apology, but his younger son needed just that. And then it was brought to light, in Loki's mind. Thor would always be Odin's favorite. There was no place in Asgard for Loki.

The raven haired prince gazed out over the churning waters that had so hungrily devoured his precious Clarice.

He stood there for hours. His family had long since departed. Loki vaguely remembered his mother's comforting touch. This was not a vigil. Loki merely could not bring himself to return to his chambers, to sleep in his bed alone. She managed to wipe the insomnia from his mind for almost half a year. Now, Loki feared it would return with a vengeance. He would likely never sleep peacefully again.

Somewhere in the smallest hours of night, the mourning prince spoke with Heimdall. He could not remember opening his mouth to respond, but he must have.

_"Was she Siv?" he asked._

_ Heimdall was not sure how to reply. "She was awakening within Clarice. It was not completely her, but it would have been."_

Loki remembered smiling then.

_"She was my Siv. I let her die. Why did I not make her eat one of Idunn's apples?"_

_ "Immortality is a feared and respected gift to humans. Idunn herself could not have convinced Clarice to eat one."_

When Loki could no longer feel his knees, he finally left the bridge and stumbled his way back to the palace. Thor was awaiting his return inside the great doors. Loki did not want to stop to talk, against his brother's wishes to converse. There was no need to. Loki was rather bitter Odin's favoritism had become so apparent. Thor must have noticed this. He seemed rather proud of himself, despite the situation. It made Loki sick.

"Brother," Thor said, patting Loki's shoulder.

But it was not slowing the mourning prince. He shrugged Thor off of him and continued to the stairs.

"Brother, at least be happy you lived out her life with her. Is that not what you wanted?"

Loki snapped around and slammed his fist into Thor's jaw. It caught the great prince off guard. He stumbled backward, holding his face in shock. "I WATCHED HER _DIE_ BECAUSE OF YOU, THOR! TELL ME, IN WHAT REALM IS THAT ACCEPTABLE? SHE IS STILL DEAD! IT DOES NOT MATTER HOW LONG A TIME WE HAD. I STILL WATCHED HER DIE. _NOW, GET AWAY FROM ME_!"

_15:32_

_22.1.14_

**Author's Note: Hello, friends! You'll notice this chapter was relatively long compared to previous ones. This is due to a sudden desire to change the direction of this plot line and take it where I never thought I would go before. Please note that I am planning on taking TI all the way through Thor, the Avengers, and Thor 2. Seeing as how Thor 2 is not out on DVD yet, I will need to take a break to wait for it to come out so I can do research. Since I have decided that the three movie arcs are about Loki and his mind specifically, they will be more closely related and I do not wish to take a break in between those. I have also decided to spend these next few weeks rewriting and adding information to the beginning of this story. Please realize that I have written these nineteen chapters in the span of twenty two days – I had not exactly planned out the whole story until recently. It is likely that in the process of rewriting, I will add in another incarnation of Siv, as well as rewrite her introduction entirely. Thank you for reading, and I eagerly await your reviews!**


	17. ANNOUNCEMENT

It seems as though the only time I want to be punctual, Life tells me no. After two months I guess it's just expected for me to be a day late in posting. I might as well adjust my calendar to say so. Chapter 15 has been rewritten and updated. Please give the "new" chapter a read! I am working diligently to rework this story. Thank you for your support! As usual, please stop by my profile and participate in the poll on the top of the page! I am curious to see how you think the ending of TI will eventually play out. Also, I haven't really asked this before, but I would love to hear actual feedback! I'm pleased with the amounts of favorites and follows, but I would enjoy hearing what you have to say. If it's not too much trouble, drop a review if you feel up to it! Happy Spring Break to those who will be enjoying it next week. 


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